Earthly Cleansing
by RomaHeart
Summary: Magic, it seems, holds onto the memories of old, and makes it very difficult to move forward. Darkness hides in corners and crannies. Hermione has secrets that threaten to consume her. Lucius wants her, but maybe that could be something just a little bit more. Shameless smut with a lot of plot for readers like me that need a little more!
1. Chapter 1

"MALFOY"

Lucius smirked to himself at the bellow that came from right outside his office and braced for impact. With a thunderous slam, his office door crashed open and there she stood in her magnificent rage.

Curly hair bristling - calling back to the Medusa's serpentine hair, seeming to have a life of its own - amber eyes crackling, feet placed in a wide dueling stance, molten lava colored magic billowing around her body, and hands balled tightly into fists on her hips, one of which was holding a crumpled sheet of paper.

Yes, Hermione Granger, was a sight to be seen when she was riled up. And Lucius Malfoy oh so _loved_ to do the riling.

The war was over, but the bloodshed and pain still lingered in the magical world. Magic, it seems, holds onto the memories of old, and makes it very difficult to move forward. Darkness hid in corners and crannies, followers of the Dark Lord still prowled in desperate hope that a new rising would be brought about, and so the wizarding world was stuck between desperately wanting to move forward and having to backtrack to make sure history did not repeat itself once more.

The "Golden Trio," as Lucius would say with rolled eyes, were all given Order of Merlins, First Class for their heroism in the war. All three were offered exemption from their N.E.W.T.S. and immediate placement in the Ministerial workforce, which the two overzealous boys eagerly took, but which Granger refused, wanting to finish her education, loathing the thought of receiving something she didn't earn herself, especially when it came to her schooling. But, to no one's surprise, she graduated top of her class, even surpassing some school records left by Dumbledore and McGonagall. Then, again to no one's surprise, she dove headfirst into work: The Department and Care of Magical Creatures. Due to the loss of so many lives within the Ministry during the War, she was immediately offered the deputy director's position, but refused it in her irritatingly righteous fashion, choosing to earn it instead. It had only taken her a couple of years and she had landed the Deputy Director position all by her own merit.

Lucius had to admit, the girl was impressive. She had brought about change within the wizarding world regarding magical creatures, to an extent that almost rivaled that Scamander fellow. Granger had enough empathy to cover the entire universe and would take up the mantle of advocate for every marginalized creature that existed. She was incredible to watch on the Wizengamot floor, arguing her cases, seeming to be one step ahead of everyone as she predicted the opposition and offered solutions to every opposing thought. She was idyllic as she was young, vibrant and she was passionate, stubborn as she was strong. The war had done Granger well in some aspects: giving her a hardened spine that refused to bend in order to bring about change. Yes, they all had their scars from the horrors of a wartorn wizarding world, but from it Hermione had morphed into the warrior she was always meant to be.

Lucius could watch her argue her cases forever. Her intelligence and wit were breathtaking. Her charm (though never extended to him) was endearing. Her passion was intoxicating. Those amber eyes would flash with every strong emotion: hopeful joy of a better future and ire at the older wizards that refused to break with stale and archaic traditions. A pretty little blush would color her cheeks when she was particularly enlivened, a blush that often set Lucius's mind to wander into less than professional places. She had matured wonderfully, a powerful woman, with long curls that cascaded down her back, strong and shapely legs that were often covered in Muggle trousers that did mesmerizing things to her bum, a mouthwatering body that was evidently maintained since her days on the run. She was elegant as she was strong. Powerful as she was womanly.

To any other man (and almost every man in the ministry), she was intimidating. But Lucius was not like those men that cowered at a fierce woman, longing for a docile sheep that would fill their bellies, bear their spawn, and coo senseless frivolities in their ears. The challenge that she presented was too good to pass up. Lucius longed to play with her fire, release it so the world could see the goddess that was housed in the tightly wound witch. In every other setting Granger was very in control of herself - anyone else would call her uptight - but the passion he saw during her debates on the welfare of creatures or when she was particularly angry (most of the time goaded on by him) showed him a different creature altogether. That passion just whetted his appetite and made him yearn for more. There were many days that he would imagine what it would be like to make Granger fully lose that tightly held control.

His mind conjured up a delicious image of that blush on her face, with her head thrown back and eyes closed as she undulated and writhed beneath him as he had his filthy way with her, their Magic's intertwining as a mirror of their bodies. Lucius inwardly chastised himself in order to try to get his mind back on track. He couldn't be distracted when she stood before him.

The Veela that was in his blood from a long forgotten ancestor had given him sharpened senses, which was one of the reasons he had risen so high in the Dark Lord's ranks. Compared to an ordinary wizard that twinned him, Lucius was far superior. Faster, stronger, keener, cleverer. Though, of course, the Veela part was a well-kept Malfoy secret, partially due to the prejudices that purebloods could have against "mixed breeds" and partially due to the upper hand that it gave to bearers of such blood. If an enemy didn't know all of one's secrets, they could easily be bested. One of Lucius's favorite little Veela tricks was a sight that could detect the Magic of individuals. Each witch or wizard had their own special magical trace: like a fingerprint in a way - their own mix of colors, their own texture, their own strengths and weaknesses. This was why Lucius was a renowned dueler: when you see the source of the Magic, it was easy to predict and exploit an opponent. Of course, with focus, Lucius could hinder the amount he saw. Too much could cause headaches and distractions. It wasn't necessary to see the magic of every single ministry worker milling around as that much color would look like a unicorn vomited a rainbow and he just wasn't up for that.

Most magical beings' magic originated from the chest, wrapping from the heart, up to the shoulders, and down to radiate from the hands. At a resting state, the magic usually stayed within the upper torso of the body. Only during extremes, such as in emotion or power of spells, would the magic spread to encompass the body. Lucius had a theory that a Veela or a part Veela had to have been the first wandmaker, because only someone with their sight could have known a hand held device would be the prime conductor and focuser of magical power.

However, Granger's power was mystifying. The vibrancy of her magic was a tale tell sign of her sheer power, but her magic, oddly enough, originated from her feet - no, the _ground_. In all his years, Lucius had never seen anything remotely like it. Her Magic was molten lava and blazing fire that swirled around her entire body, cording up her legs, spiraling around her waist, intertwining in her curls. Merlin, the girl looked like a sodding Phoenix rising daily. Lucius remembered seeing her as she fought in the final battle, that blaze blinding him as it seemed to completely engulf her as she dueled, burning through his one-opponent at a time focus. He had been hit with a pretty nasty hex because of her distraction. She was magnificent.

In short, Lucius was enamored with Hermione. He had chalked it up to his newfound bachelor-hood (when the Dark Lord had been eradicated, Narcissa had promptly packed her things and left him), but he and Narcissa had had no issues with sharing their beds with other lovers the entirety of their marriage. Arranged pure blood marriages were never ones filled with warmth and love, only duty and slight friendship, as the two were bonded only by the love of the children. That counter thought was shoved in the back of Lucius's mind, however, as he went back to his not so wholesome thoughts of Granger, justifying his thoughts with arguments of simply wanting the witch in his bed.

But Granger despised him. Hate runs deep and a Gryffindor holds a grudge almost as well as a Slytherin. Not to say that Granger hated him, per say, Lucius didn't think Granger was actually capable of hate, her compassion and willingness to give second chances showcased that. However, he had not been the kindest man to her in their short history. Lucius winced at the memory of her in his Manor, Bellatrix looming over her. He would not be surprised if she equated that whole memory entirely to his person, which would certainly explain her reluctance to be alone in a room with him.

That reluctance had vanished apparently as Lucius turned his head to face the wrath of the lioness that stood before him.

"Yes Miss Granger?" He replied coolly, raking his eyes up her body to meet her furious glare. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a pretty, flowy, silken material blouse. That skirt did wonders, showing off the curves of her hips delectably. And her shirt showed just the barest hints of cleavage. Just enough to drive a man mad from wanting to delve further.

 _Focus_ Lucius thought, trying to keep his composure _There are more important things at the moment_.

/

"What the fuck is this?" Hermione said through gritted teeth staring the blonde aristocrat down. His eyebrows rose at her choice of vocabulary and his steel grey eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn't place. Frustratingly unreadable as always.

Lucius Malfoy had been the bane of Hermione's entire existence at the Ministry. When the dust had settled after Voldemort was vanquished, the Malfoys were deemed worthy to _just barel_ y stay out of Azkaban as many witnesses came forward (willingly, they said. Paid off, everyone knew) to testify to Voldemort's blackmailing and intimidation tactics to keep the family in check. It would seem that the Ministry thought they had suffered enough and just slapped Lucius with a massive fine and a strict probation. Draco got off with no muddiness to his name, legality wise, due to his blatant defection in the middle of the Final Battle. Narcissa was deemed a troubled wife and mother subject to the bad decisions of her husband (that part bristled Hermione due to the Ministry's still arcane laws associated with women's placement and autonomy in society, but that was a battle for another day). Narcissa's love for Draco had saved Harry and brought about the end of the war and, for that, Hermione hoped she found happiness wherever she went after the very public split of the Malfoy marriage. Tabloids were still as toxic and strong as ever even after a war.

Lucius somehow (and by somehow she meant by sheer wealth and pureblooded privilege) had managed to get his silk clad arse back into the Ministry's good graces after only about a year of probation and was appointed over the Ministry as the Manager of Affairs. What Minister Shacklebolt was thinking, Hermione had no idea, but her teeth ground every time she thought of Malfoy getting all of this handed to him with only a gleaming white smile and a drop of a coin purse. Merlin Balls, his breath probably reeked from all the ass kissing he had to do.

And for some reason beyond the foggiest idea in Hermione's mind, he had seemed to take a special interest in making her life an absolutely fucking nightmare.

Left and right, Lucius would meet her, arguing against her cases in that arrogantly cool tone he always seem to have with that smirk that seemed to be permanently etched on his face. There was no case or bill she had proposed or argued for that hadn't taken almost 3 times as long to get passed because Malfoy seemed to block her progress at every turn. He would be at every reading, every debate, to offer his "Devil's Advocate" questions that would gum up the works and cause the government to reconvene after taking too long so a vote couldn't be called. It's also worth noting that a call to vote, annoyingly enough, had to be initiated by the Ministerial Manager of Affairs, Mr. Perfect Hair and Robes and Looks, himself.

Hermione assumed this unwanted attention was all due to some lasting wish to have the upper hand on her, to remind her of her place or status, to humiliate her and insult her intelligence. After all, a leopard can't change its spots and a Death Eater can't change his prejudices. She would do her best to stay calm and collected, patiently and diplomatically answering his and everyone else's questions. But he seemed to be particularly gifted in _pissing her off_. Not to mention, some of the old codgers that were somehow still alive, even though they looked 400 years old and on the brink of death, consistently refuse to move with the times and legitimately think things should stay the same way that they are because that's the way they have always been. Everything combined made Hermione want to tear her hair out. _Daily._

In some aspects, she could almost appreciate his questions, as they allowed her to go into further detail over the case and increase the importance of the bill in the Ministry's eyes. _Almos_ t. She often got the feeling that Malfoy was simply mocking her and the rest of the Ministry was in on some cruel joke at her expense. Her fear of being handed positions and titles and awards just because of her name made her even more self conscious about her work and place more of her self worth in the approval of her superiors than when she was at Hogwarts.

Malfoy would often let the questioning of her cases go on for weeks before he would call a vote, half of the time voting in her favor and half not. She would be pleasantly surprised at his Ayes and irate at his Nays, as they seemed to have no rhyme or reason as to why they occurred. It felt like he was toying with her, her cases, and her career. Generally, Hermione did her absolute best to avoid and ignore him, not wanting to give him a chance to make her life hell outside of a case presentation.

But this time, he had gone too far.

"This," she said, acid dripping from her voice, as she slammed that crumpled paper on his desk right in front of him. It was covered in tiny typeface with a blaring, angry red stamp which said "DENIED" and had his elegant signature in green off to the side. Hermione leaned over Malfoy's desk staring him straight in the face, her right hand pointing accusingly at the insulting stamp. "What is the meaning of this?!"

Malfoy didn't even look at the paper or the stamp, he simply held her glare with his own steel gaze. An elegantly arched eyebrow rose and that blasted smirk blossomed on his face.

"Ah, yes. That." He sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't want to trouble all our busy Wizengamot members with such a trivial bill, so I denied its ability to be brought forth." Was that laughter in his eyes? Oh how she wished should could slap that smirk off his high cheekboned face.

 _Seriously why do men get all the good bone structure?_

"Trivial?!" Hermione exploded, "Are you absolutely serious Malfoy?"

He chuckled lowly and raised both his hands in a feigned picture of innocence. With a saccharin-sweet tone he replied, "Now Miss Granger, when am I ever not serious?" Hermione had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

He dropped his penetrating gaze to the offending document on his desk and promptly crumpled it into a ball and tossed in into the wastebin across the room. _Of course he's incredibly coordinated as well_ Hermione thought with a huff.

"The bill is unfinished, lackluster, and would be a waste of time for all of us-" Malfoy's voice rose as she spluttered at this insult, "-and I would hate to have to force everyone to sit through such a tedious case. We can revisit it when it is complete." He looked up at her, that smirk deepening. "Honestly, Miss Granger, I expected better from you over a subject you claim you're so passionate about."

"Unfinished?!" Hermione cried indignantly, " I've worked non-stop on this piece of legislation for MONTHS. Your incessant memos with your supposed edits made that process go at a snail's pace! It _is_ finished!" Hermione was about to lose her mind on this man. She hoped she didn't sound as whiny as she felt, but sweet _Merlin_ , he was working on her last nerve. She had worked constantly to get this bill up to his "standards" and when she was finally done, he rejected it! Her eyes narrowed as she was struck by a memory, "YOU even said it was done."

Malfoy shook that perfectly groomed blonde head. "No, Miss Granger. I never did." He sighed again, just a over-dramatically before. "I just grew bored with how long this was taking and moved my attention to other, more pressing matters. You simply took my silence as acquiescence."

"That's a lie!" She cried. That blasted eyebrow rose again. Suddenly the smirk had changed from mocking to one that seemed almost sinister.

"My, what an accusation." His voice was soft, dangerous. Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel as confident in her ability to "put him in the dirt" as had been her battle cry as she marched to his office. The man stood on his feet. Hermione's chin lifted as he rose to maintain eye contact, her Gryffindor stubbornness refusing to cower at this new atmosphere. In her avoidance of being physically present in a room with him, it was very easy to forget just how tall Malfoy was. He was a good head taller than her, towering over her. He put his fists down on the desk and leaned in toward her, closing the gap of space that Hermione preferred to have when interacting with anyone, especially him. He practically purred this last statement:

"Pray tell, Miss Granger, just what evidence do you have to back up this claim?"

/

The blush was back. Who knew that all it took was to get in her space a little and her heels would be cooled a bit? A flame of triumph blazed in him when she backed away from him. Lucius didn't want to break the lioness's spirit, no, but he was a known Dominant male, considered an Alpha and there was nothing more arousing than an equally dominant female choosing to submit to him.

Another delicious image appeared, this time of her hands tied tightly in his Slytherin green tie to the headboard, asking - no, _begging_ \- him to allow her to cum. Lucius willed his blood to not redirect itself to other areas in his body.

She spun away from him, her hands immediately going in her hair, twirling it up into a very messy bun and letting it fall, repeating this movement almost robotically. Lucius had noticed she did this when she was particularly stressed or thinking terribly hard. He already knew that she was trying to remember when he had communicated with her last about the bill. Honestly, it had been so long ago, he didn't even remember himself, but luckily for him, all his memos were set to burn or shred immediately upon being read by the intended, a trick he learned when he was with the Dark Lord so there would be no paper trail. This method's use was further emphasized now by allowing him to push another one of her buttons. _Fuck, what I wouldn't do to be able to rip those buttons off that shirt._

She spun back to him, walking up to the desk and jamming that finger in his chest, no degree of fear in her, just raging frustration written all over her face.

"Regardless of evidence, which I'm sure is hidden amongst the million tiny piles of paper clippings or ash on my desk, I know you did! I wouldn't have sent it to your office for final review if you hadn't. You're just doing this to - to - to"

"To what, Miss Granger?" He prompted, amused at her newfound inability to form a proper sentence. Granger's eyes narrowed.

"To _piss - me - off!_ " Her finger jabbed his chest at each of these words for emphasis.

Lucius laughed at her, causing those amber eyes to widen in surprise. It wasn't often he laughed and it threw others off without fail. And quick like a viper strike, he grabbed her wrist of that annoying, jabbing finger and pulled her to him, making her hips hit the side of his desk, and her spine bow so that her face was a breath away from his. Her breath caught in her throat and that blush exploded across her face. Granger made no move to get away, probably too surprised to fully analyze the situation and react. Lucius praised his Veela-enhanced speed.

"Miss Granger," Lucius lowered his voice in the way he would if he was speaking to a witch in his bed, "I assure you, if I wanted to piss you off, as you so elegantly put it, I could do so a thousand other and easier ways than to read through your billion worded bill just to deny it. Such as causing that skirt of yours to rip in _just_ the right way to give the whole office a show." He watched intently as he spoke to her, noticing how her eyelashes batted at his vocal change and how her gaze had fallen to his mouth. Interesting that it was the tone of voice that fixated her, no necessarily the innuendo. That is, if she had calmed her racing mind to actually understand the implication.

And just as quickly as he grabbed her, he released her wrist and backed away from the desk in order to walk around and stand in front of the flustered witch.

Granger rose up from her leaning position on the desk ( _a pity_ Lucius thought _that's a wonderful position_ ) and pressed the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and index finger. Lucius wondered if she was counting to ten in order to calm down. The witch turned to him, took a deep breath, and said evenly:

"The bill is finished. I would suggest taking another look at it." She gritted her teeth, "please." Lucius could have laughed at the obvious strain playing nice put on her.

"Asking nicely now Miss Granger? Such a strategy change. But alas, I have plans and will be leaving the office soon, so that will have to wait until I have time freed up to take a more _thorough_ look into it." He never grew tired of watching her eyes flash like that.

"Mister Malfoy, I'm not sure how thoroughly you read it the first time, but if you had, I'm sure you would realize how important it is to make this bill go through as soon as possible." It was quite amusing to see her try so hard to keep her temper in check.

"Ah yes, your passion for the werewolves. Not everyone is as - _invested_ \- as you are in their well-being, Miss Granger. They have ample reason, in my opinion, to wish they be wiped out completely." Her eyes widened in horror at his words.

"They're people. Innocent people who were never given a choice!"

Lucius stepped toward her, she didn't move. "They made their choice when they went violent," he said darkly, remembering when his Manor was overrun with the beasts.

"That was a minuscule amount! The fools that followed Greyback that thought Voldemort would actually view them on equal footing as wizards! There are so many good people out there that are actively trying to manage their symptoms, to be contributing member of society-"

"You speak of them like they have a disease. Like a common cold that can be eradicated with one Pepper-Up Potion."

"Because that's what it is! A blood disease! Something that can be managed."

"I've never seen someone manage these symptoms well," he drawled.

"Professor Lupin!" She cried forcefully. Lucius could have laughed again.

"Lupin was a weak man who hated himself. Even that monster within couldn't liven him-" Her wand was at his face, eyes blazing, magic swirling around her like a strong current. Oh he had really pressed a nerve this time.

"Don't you dare-"

Lucius shoved her against his desk, effortlessly knocking her wand out of her hand. He towered over her, hands on either side of her laid flat on the desk, effectively caging her in with his body. Granger's eyes were wide for a second, but rage overtook her once more and her mouth opened as she took breath to barrage him with insults and the like.

"Be silent, Miss Granger," Lucius hissed. He was by no means actually angry, if not a little annoyed, but it didn't hurt to remind the witch just who she drew a wand on. He noticed a shiver run down her body and her mouth immediately close at his words.

That's new.

So Miss Granger, goody two shoes, was a lover of rules in more ways than one. Lucius opened his focus in order to see her Magic more in-depth. With him being this close, he could the small, minute details of her Magic. The fire had cooled slightly and had returned to its at-rest state, except now ringlets were cording around her lower waist and hips, reaching out from the area as if trying to grasp hold of the metalloid silver that was his Magical signature. Lucius was thrown.

She was _aroused_. Magic went to different places depending on extremes, and signatures were irritatingly obvious where they lay. The pelvic region meant arousal.

He realized that he could smell her. _Gods_ he could smell her. Her normal scent was a lovely combination of rose and vanilla, but that heady and musky scent was unmistakably arousal and unmistakably _her_.

Lucius could take her right her. Spin her around, bend her over his desk, and have his way with her. Shove his cock in her dripping quim over and over again until she couldn't walk straight. Lucius gritted his teeth to try and gain some control. Sometimes the Veela could make his sex drive go haywire.

No, Granger would take time. She might be turned on physically, but she wouldn't give herself just because of that. Hell, with the way she reacted with him being in any close proximity to her, it was like she had never been that near to a male before, let alone be touched by one. So Lucius regrouped, shoved the horny Veela down, and leaned in so that his mouth was right next to her ear.

"I suggest that if you ever pull a wand on me, you have every intention of using it, witch. I don't take kindly to empty threats." She shivered again. Lucius moved his head so he was almost nose to nose with her, staring directly in her face. Steel meeting amber.

Her eyes unfocused and suddenly she blanched, dropping her head. Her magic when from a low, erotic, pulse to an erratic electrical feel. Every fiber skittered away and retreated into her torso until there was no trace on her. Lucius had only seen this reaction many times and it always meant the same thing: fear.

When panicked, Magic will flow inwardly almost as if to soothe its handler. Fear is just as powerful and unpredictable as anger, but whereas anger can create an explosion, fear can create an implosion. Magic had life of its own and would try to protect its producer from themselves. Lucius had seen this retreat happen before with magical signatures, but had never seen it actually completely disappear.

For it to completely soak into Granger, that meant she was terrified.

/

Hermione willed herself to get a grip. But her brain was going haywire.

 _It's not him. It's not him. It's not him. It's not him._

 _He's dead. You're alive. He's dead. You're alive._

 _You're safe. You're safe. You're safe._

She wanted to slide down into the fetal position so that she could breathe and regain her composure. But she would be damned if she showed weakness to Malfoy.

 _That's all he needs. An excuse to commit me or make me lose my job due to incompetence._

 _You're safe. You're safe. You're safe._

 _It's over. It's over. It's over._

 _/_

Granger's eyes had glazed over, but panic was written all over her face as her breathing started to become erratic. Lucius was partially grateful the witch was so horrible at concealing her emotions. Judging by her face, she was somewhere far away from his office.

He had never seen a fear response from Granger even when she had caused his own temper to flare on the rare occasion. Lucius gently skimmed her mind in order to figure out how to handle the skittish witch. He usually stayed away from intruding on the minds of others, even though he was of the same calibur Legilimens as Severus was, he just had less care for the intricacies of handling the innermost thoughts of people other than himself. Generally, Granger had powerful walls built around her mind, a fortress, but in her panic, all those had crumbled like Jericho. It wasn't a penetrating breach so as to put him in her memories, just light enough to go unnoticed and allow him to read the emotionally charged thoughts that were unprotected and at the top of her mind.

 _He's dead. You're alive. He's dead. You're alive._

 _You're safe. You're safe. You're safe._

 _It's over. It's over. It's over.  
_

Lucius eyebrows furrowed. He had been there when it happened. She had gone untouched. At least, to his knowledge she had.

Regardless, he didn't want the witch to associate such a powerful fear with his presence (there also was a nagging protective urge that he shoved in the back of his brain because that was unnecessary. Merlin, he wanted to _fuck_ her, not fucking _protect_ her).

He brought his right index finger and placed it under Granger's chin, pushing it up so that her unfocused eyes would meet his. He spoke softly to her.

"Come back, Miss Granger."

No response.

"Miss Granger."

Glazed eyes.

"Hermione, you're safe."

She blinked at him as her breathing slowed and her eyes refocused. She relaxed her hands that were gripping onto his robes, a frantic and unconscious need for stability. Her magic tentatively peaked out from her chest. In this state, she was open and innocent, not covering herself with a protective coat of derision aimed at him to keep him from coming too close. She seemed so small, the lionness nowhere to be seen. Lucius felt that pest of a protective urge move him to want to wrap her up in his arms and keep her safe. He looked into her gold-flecked, wide open, questioning eyes and he was lost as his Veela roared to the surface.

She was so close to him. He could feel the heat radiating from her body to his. All he had to do was tilt her head just so...lean down...and—

"Lucius," came Kingsley Shacklebolt's soothing tenor.

/

 **I know, such an awful cliffhanger! Just like the summary said, this will be a shameless smut, but with a lot of plot. Because sometimes you need just a little more than a quick bang. This is something that has been itching to be written, so let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Malfoy moved so fast, Hermione felt like she had just blinked and he was back behind his desk, sitting in his desk chair, the picture of elegance in recline. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the sitting Prime Minister, walked through the doorway, seemingly unaware of the very unprofessional events that had just transpired, his warm smile greeting both of them like this was the most normal thing in the world. Hermione did her best to look natural (because it was _totally_ natural for her to be leaned up against Lucius Malfoy's desk in the middle of the day like they were best pals).

 _What (and I cannot stress this enough) the actual_ fuck _just happened?_

Hermione took deep breaths through her nose as she sought to calm herself, closing her eyes to get recentered. Too much had happened in the short amount of time she had been in that godforsaken office. She had stormed in, thoroughly in control of the situation and had ended up pushed against a desk by a man, a very large one at that, who effortlessly plucked that control right out of her clenched fists.

She always felt off-balance around him, never completely on her two feet. Where she was self-assured and confident in literally every other setting, around him she felt thoroughly off kilter at every moment, struggling to stay up with him as he danced circles around her. Malfoy was incredibly intelligent, but also cunning, which made for a powerful and dangerous combination. He could maneuver people and events in his favor so effortlessly his victims would think his manipulations were their own thoughts or ideas. Plainly speaking, he honestly was the best candidate for Ministry Managers of Affairs as his Affairs never went awry. But Hermione would be _damned_ if she ever told him that. His ego was big enough as it was.

Malfoy was the living definition of power and poise. There were few times she had ever actually seen the man disheveled, those being the only moments when his normally well chilled temper flared white hot. And then the already powerful man became a force to be reckoned with. But usually, even when she was at her most livid at him, he would just slap on that _fucking smirk_ and respond to her quickly and cooly, never stumbling over his words. In fact, Hermione couldn't even remember the last time the man had even _stuttered_. It was positively maddening.

The worst part? She could never tell what the man was thinking. Everything he did came as a surprise because there was no way to predict his thoughts. The war had made Hermione quieter, willing to watch and listen before speaking, a trait that made it easy to read people. One just had to pay attention, and Hermione had lots of practice at paying attention as her time at Hogwarts had taught her that if something was worth studying, it was worth studying with no distractions. The normal witches and wizards of the Ministry were relatively easy to read as ministerial workers really had no reason to hide their thoughts. But Malfoy? A complete enigma. Like just a few moments ago: it felt like Malfoy was about to kiss her. Actually kiss her.

Shrill, panicked laughter of sheer disbelief bubbled in Hermione's throat. She fought to keep silent, almost choking on her own breath.

 _Get yourself together, stupid. It was just another game. Another trick. Another way to make him feel more powerful than you. Not to mention, you were having a Stage 5 panic attack right in front of him, you could have imagined the whole thing. It's not like you were in the sanest state of mind.  
_  
It had been a while since her last panic attack. Hermione thought she had some control over those episodes, but with how close Lucius was, her focus had wavered and her mind had gone back to — _him_. Hermione inwardly shook her head, cramming that thought back down into the metal lock box in her brain and wrapped it back up in its well-deserving chains. _There's no need to go back there. We're moving on and moving forward, right?  
_  
Hermione took one last gulp of air, turned her head, and smiled her warmest smile she could muster to greet Kingsley.

/

Lucius, again, praised the Veela blood for letting him be quicker than the average mortal eye could perceive. Otherwise, the two of them might have been caught in a less than desirable (and certainly difficult to explain) position.

He did his best the wrestle the Veela blood from raging hard-on status to just barely simmering, his resting state now that Granger was around.

He watched Granger intently through the corner of his eyes as she tried to regain her composure. It was impressive how short a time it took for her to get back to business-as-usual Granger, only needing to take a few deep breaths. Her smile at Kingsley was warm and inviting, almost believable if Lucius hadn't been present to practically feel the waves of terror rolling off of her a few moments before.

He was glad to see that her magic was wrapping itself back around its master, a comforting glow like a hearth fire instead of the molten lava he was used to. It never ceased to amaze Lucius how lifelike magic was when it came to acting toward and reacting to its holder.

Granger's hand barely moved by her side, the slightest movement that any normal person wouldn't have noticed, but which Lucius easily caught. Tendrils of her magic curled down her arm, drifted off her fingers , and gracefully arced through the air like calligraphy to wrap around the wand that Lucius had knocked from her hand. Her wand was carried smoothly back to her hand and she quickly pocketed it like nothing had happened.

Lucius was floored. It was immensely unusual for wandless and wordless magic to be used, as it required incredible focus and power. For Granger to summon her wand like it was absolutely _nothing_ was flabbergastng. Lucius was by no means a weak wizard, but wandless and wordless magic was a difficult task, even for one such as he.

 _I knew she was strong, but fucking hell. What other secrets do you have hidden in you, witch? Besides an unusually strong attraction to being bossed about?_ It was difficult to conceal his smirk as Lucius thought of all the wicked things he could do to a surprisingly compliant little witch like her.

Granger's undivided attention was on Shacklebolt, so the wizard followed suit after confirming that she was relatively fine for now.

Absolutely incredible that the minister seemed to notice nothing at all. Lucius liked Shacklebolt considerably. He was the very definition of a good man, someone that the wizarding world needed in power right now, a formidable wizard and experienced Auror (Lucius should know, he had dueled the man multiple times. And it wasn't for practice), but Merlin's Beard was he always this _unobservant_? He was by no means complaining, thankful that his activities had gone unnoticed as he knew being caught would harm Granger's reputation much more than his (the wizarding world was still not without its double standards regarding witches and wizards). But one would hope the Minister of Magic would be a bit more _aware_.

"Why hello, Hermione." Kingsley said, warmly, as if her being there was complete unsurprising. "I was going to head to your office after meeting with Lucius, but now I can kill two birds with one stone." Granger's eyebrows rose in a quizzical look, obviously wondering what the Minister of Magic would have to say that concerned both her and Lucius Malfoy. Kingsley turned to the seated blonde.

"I apologize for how blasted long it took us, but we finally know what's happening at the Manor. Damned Unspeakables sometimes take their jobs a little too too seriously. They research deep magical issues and then proceed to not say a damn word." The minister shook his head irritably.

Lucius leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear the news. It the past couple of months, a shadow seemed to have fallen on the Manor. Granted, it wasn't the friendliest piece of architecture in the first place, but this shadow felt like the weight of evil had infiltrated its very walls. Lucius had asked the Ministry to look into it, as all of his research had ended up fruitless. He desperately wanted to be rid of it, as his attempts at redemption in the minds of the Ministry and Wizarding World were already balanced on shaky ground.

He had been wrong. Plain and simple. He was raised up in a world that was terrified of those that were different and used hatred as a guard. He was no better than those that came from two, one, or no magical parents. They all bled the same color blood. Hell, watching Granger, the muggleborn Gryffindor princess, absolutely destroy multiple pureblooded Death Eaters was humbling enough. Lucius knew and thoroughly accepted now that power could rest in any type of blood as magic knew no discrimination. Magic was pure in its on part. It was the masters of such that adulterated it for their own means.

Lucius knew the damage he had done was immense and the people he had hurt, even killed, were many, but he had a nagging (and often self-described pathetic) hope in the back of his mind that he could work to repay his debts. Even if he died before he could do it totally, he would fight to earn some degree of forgiveness, whatever it took. That's why his work at the Ministry was so important to him: if the Ministry succeeded and did right by its constituents, then that was one more step in the right direction.

 _One more step to being worthy of her._ Lucius angrily shooed that thought away. _Not the time or the place. You need a good fuck, you silly man. You're losing your mind._

Not that finding a willing witch was particularly difficult for Lucius. He had spent many a night in the arms of an overzealous lover. It would seem that the title of ex-Death Eater did little to keep the witches at bay. Most came to him out of some odd quest for meaning, equating his "bad boy-ness" (as one tipsy witch had described) as either a rebellion of societal/familial standards or as an escape into an exotic world where one could safely play with darkness. But lately, the witches weren't piquing his interest. They were hungry for attention or gold but lacking in every ounce of intellect except for that which involved sex. Lucius grew bored with them rather quickly.

He simply used them to satisfy that Veela quivering underneath his skin, one that desperately urged him to jump Granger daily. Lucius chose to not delve into the reason why his blood was so hot for the witch, choosing to believe that because he was attracted to her and denied himself, the Veela trait raged for her. After all, he was not used to not getting what he wanted. Gods forbid he ever lost control (something he generally very much had, but around her, all bets were off): he would be ravishing her in an instant, ripping her clothes off, his mouth on whatever uncovered skin he could find. And with her mouthwatering, lightly tanned golden skin, he would take his sweet time tasting her. Lucius imagined his blond head between two deliciously toned thighs, the witch's back bowed as she moaned his name, her hands stroking his head in rhythm with his mouth as he fucked her with his tongue. One would think with his ancestor being so removed, the strength of genetics would have diminished, but the Veela traits dominated his entire being.

Lucius turned his attention back to the Minister who had paused (maybe for dramatic effect?) hoping to distract the hot blooded creature within him.

"Well? What is it? What was found?" Shacklebolt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, seeming to mull over the words he was about to say. He looked up, his face stern and his dark eyes meeting Lucius's. Lucius cursed.

"Not him." Lucius flopped back in his chair, both hands covering and rubbing his face. A small laugh of pure disbelief burst out of his mouth. "How? He's _dead_. The boy got every one of the horcruxes, correct?"

"Yes, well." Kingsley looked like it was taking effort to speak, like saying the words out loud would make it all too real. "Somehow his soul or spirit (if you could even call it that) has been melded to the inner workings of your home."

"And what, _exactly_ , is the solution to eradicating this parasite?" Lucius flared at Shacklebolt, not out of anger at the Minister, but at the bloody piss-poor hand of cards he was just dealt.

Shacklebolt winced in response. Oh Merlin, was he about to say something worse? Was that possible?

The Minister turned to Granger who had been listening intently to the entire two-sided conversation, but was just a bewildered as she had been from the start.

"Hermione I'm afraid we need your help again." Shacklebolt said gravely.

 _What the hell? What did Granger have to do with anything?_ It wasn't often that Lucius was completely taken off-guard.

The witch started. Her eyes widened in surprise and she took a step back, her arms crossing over her chest. _A defensive move._ She shook that mane of riotous curls.

"No, Kingsley." _Oh shit, Gryffindor princess and all over War heroine was denying a request? A one from the minister nonetheless? Wonders never cease._ "We talked about this. I can't do it. Not again."

 _Again? What the bloody hell was going on here?_

Kingsley sighed again. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the manner, Hermione." He seemed to be pleading with her. "It's Voldemort."

The witch sucked in a breath. She spun around so her back was facing both wizards and her hands went into her hair once more.

Kingsley continued, his voice remaining in that calming tone. "He's essence or spirit or whatever you want to call it is still hanging around. Somehow he was able to connect to the Malfoy Manor—"

Hermione spun around, eyes snapping, arms crossed over her chest. "Absolutely not. I won't go back there."

Lucius watched the girl calmly. Her temper was flaring, but her body language meant fear. Those arms wrapping around her body, with her hands white knuckling her biceps were her tells. He couldn't blame her. With what she experienced, it was perfectly reasonable for her to have no desire to ever set foot in that place. And being her, she would never admit to being afraid. No, that would mean a show of weakness and she did her best to put on the guise of a witch that was completely together and in control. Anger helped by making people leave her alone, but Shacklebolt wasn't a man easily intimidated.

Kingsley's voice hardened. "Hermione, I'm not asking."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Funny, I distinctly remember you being elected as minister, not climbing to power as a dictator. Or perhaps you've decided to take a page out of Voldemort's diary," she responded through gritted teeth. "There is always a choice."

 _Damn, Granger._

Kingsley passed his hand over his face as he groaned, completely exasperated. "This time I'm afraid there's not. When it comes to Voldemort, no one has a choice. It's our duty. It's _your_ duty, Hermione. If you can help make sure he never hurts another soul again, you _must_."

Granger's eyes went flat and her shoulders sagged, arms falling to her sides, all anger-fueled energy gone. Her eyes fell to the floor, too exhausted to meet the minister's gaze. Lucius felt pity perk up in his chest for the girl. She had spent the better part of a year on the run to find Horcruxes and support those two idiot boys, all in the name of duty. It was general knowledge that Potter's success was mainly due to her and her unwavering loyalty. That sense of duty, though, could very easily trap a person and Lucius could almost see the chains weighing Granger down.

She spoke quietly, her voice almost quivering. "I can't do it Kingsley. You said only once and that was it. To do it again could be disastrous." Her eyes were on trained to a spot on the floor, ashamed to admit weakness.

Shacklebolt moved forward and placed his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "I'm afraid I'm having to ask you to do it once more," he said, not unkindly. Her eyes still not meeting his, she gave a very slow and very small nod of acquiescence.

"Two Aurors will go with you. Would you like me to request Harry and Ron?" Lucius's lip curled at the thought of those two imbeciles in his Manor. Weasley was a belligerent baboon and Potter was just a reminder that he only stayed out of Azkaban because of his testimony holding so much weight. He despised owing anyone anything and after meeting the boy face-to-face to stiffly express his thanks, he did his best to avoid the "Chosen One" at all cost.

"NO!" He was surprised again, especially at the frantic look that graced Granger's features as her face snapped up to meet Shacklebolt.

She cleared her throat and said more evenly. "No, that's unnecessary. You know others won't be able to help. I'll be fine on my own."

Kingsley looked hard at her. "Are you absolutely sure, Hermione? It will just be you and Lucius there. Would you be comfortable?"

The implication was obvious. Lucius almost growled in annoyance. But who was he to complain? A known pureblooded bigot, who hated "MudBloods," an ex-Death Eater. Of course everyone would be worried to let the Gryffindor princess go into the devil's bedroom all alone. A particularly sinful thought piped up of all the devilish things he would do to that witch should she find herself in his bedroom.

Granger glanced at Lucius and then back to Shacklebolt.

"I'll be fine," she said firmly. Her pitch a little too high and her smile a little too forced to be anywhere near the truth. "Besides, it can be done in less than an hour like last time. I'll be in and out and I won't have to bother Mister Malfoy for very long."

Shacklebolt shot her a sympathetic look. "Hermione, this could take days. His spirit is wrapped around the very bones of that Manor. And with all the magic that the Manor contains just as a magical structure alone, his grip is strong." Hermione looked horrified and she opened her mouth to probably nullify her acceptance. The Minister quickly spoke before she could get a word in.

"Seamus and Dean will accompany you, plus one Unspeakable to direct how this will go," Shacklebolt's voice was all business. "That Unspeakable will let you know when it is over." He turned to Lucius. "I'm afraid you'll have to be there the entire time as well, Lucius. You know the ins and outs of your home and we'll need that knowledge to thoroughly eradicate his pestilence." Lucius gave him a curt nod.

The Minister turned to walk toward the door. "This will begin tomorrow morning at the Malfoy Manor and go until it is finished. Lucius I'm sure you'll have rooms prepared." Hermione spluttered in indignation. "Yes, all of you must stay in the house. Hermione, your power cannot leave that establishment until he's gone. You know what could go wrong if you do decide to leave." She went silent.

Shacklebolt's hand rested on the office doorknob as he looked back apologetically to the two individuals, "The Wizarding World thanks you in advance. Good luck." And with a resounding click, the door was shut and the man was gone. Lucius turned his attention back to the defeated witch.

She sighed. " _Fuck_."

/

Hermione angrily slammed clothes into a suitcase. She was probably overpacking, but when you're told that this activity would continue "until it is finished," that didn't give you much to go off of. So she was packing enough to last a week. She could always wash and rewear if, gods forbid, this whole trial was going to go longer. She shivered at the thought of going back — _there_. But she bitterly stuffed that fear down deep inside, into that lock box.

 _There's no time to be afraid. You'll get in and you'll get out and you'll never have to go back. Maybe this can be closure?_ Hermione let out an empty laugh at that pathetic try at optimism.

The second Kingsley had left, Hermione had rushed her way out of the office, not wanting to be alone with Malfoy any more that day, exhausted from her anger at him, that really unfortunately timed panic attack, and her autonomy being ripped away by Kingsley. The rest of the working day had been incredibly unproductive as all she could think about was either the dread of going to Malfoy Manor the next day or the events that had transpired between her and Lucius Malfoy.

Twice, he had come much closer than necessary. Twice, she had done absolutely nothing to stop him. Yeah, maybe she could justify it by how bloody fast and sodding strong the man was, catching her off guard and moving away before she had time to respond. But maybe, there was something that made her not want to move away?

When a frustrated cry, Hermione threw a shirt she had been folding down on the ground, sat heavily on her bed, and buried her face in her hands.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ She despised the man. Well, maybe not completely despise (to hate someone gave them too much power of you), but she sure as hell didn't like him! Him with his perfect hair, and broad shoulders, and intimidating height, and perfect poise, and astounding intellect, and aristocratic bone structure, and devilish grey eyes.

Hermione fell back onto the bed, spread eagle, looking up at the ceiling, and willing her brain to stop thinking for _once in her fucking life_. She sighed heavily.

Alright.

She could admit that Malfoy was definitely an attractive male. You would have to be blind or completely out of your mind to deny that fact. If you were to think of what Apollo or Adonis would have looked like, their visage probably would have paled to that of Lucius Malfoy. He was elegant and masculine, dangerous but intriguing, and intelligent above it all.

Yes, She could admit that. Attractiveness could be completely objective.

She'd seen the many young female (and sometimes male) ministry workers throw themselves a him, thinking sex would tie him down. Many times she'd see that wicked smirk come out when a particularly pretty witch would approach him. They would chat and eventually walk out of the Ministry together, arms intertwined. Hermione never saw him speak again to the witches he would walk out with, but she would see those girls every now and then, looking rather crestfallen from being discarded almost immediately. Those witches almost always had a backup wizard somewhere, so it was difficult to feel sorry for them for long.

She wondered what it was like: to have a one-night stand with a man who cared nothing for you and made that very apparent from the start. But she was not deaf to the giggling groups of witches that would quietly rave about how good of a shag he was. Maybe that was worth it to them? She sniffed. She didn't judge. People were free to do whatever they wanted with whomever, as long as it was between two (or more) consenting adults.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat at the thought of what happened in his office. Once more, she couldn't get it out of her head, it felt like a movie on repeat. He was so close to her. So powerful. And Merlin, it should be a sin to have voice like that. It was like a silk covered blade, dangerously sleek, daring you to touch. She shook her head and groaned again, pulling at the roots of her hair, hoping pain would clear her mind.

 _You are not bloody lusting after Lucius Malfoy, you idiot. He was just trying to upset you, that's it! Don't fall for it. You're better than his cheap seduction tricks. You are no scarlet woman._

Hermione sighed and massaged her forehead.

This next week (or however the fuck long) was going to be one straight from hell.

/

 **This chapter was bit more plot based, so I tried to give you some yummy things in the midst of all the detail. I promise it will heat up soon! Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Lucius was restless. He checked his timepiece: 7:55 am. They were supposed to be at the Manor at 8am so that they could get started while they were "bright eyed and bushy tailed" (as described by Minister Shacklebolt in a multi-group owl). The wizard was pacing up and down his foyer, almost anxious for his guests to arrive.

She was going to be in close quarters with him for an extended period of time. This partially made Lucius nervous, as elongated time together could weaken his resolve against the creature that purred her name under his skin. As a man, he refused to touch her unless she wanted him. As a beast, the Veela assumed she did.

Lucius passed a hand over his hair, checking the already immaculate blonde locks. He had decided to go more casual for today as he had no idea what was in store for this "activity" since the Ministry was being particularly opaque about just how they were to get the Dark Lord's essence _out_ of his house. He hoped that his decision of muggle attire might surprise Granger, helping her form the opinion on her own of his changing mindsets. He refused to beg his innocence to her. She had to decide for herself if he had changed or not, something no amount of haranguing or explaining on his part could help with. She was a woman who formed her own opinions by herself, too intelligent to be manipulated.

He had never been around her in an informal setting since the end of the war. He wondered if the witch would be just as uptight and formal as she was at the Ministry. Obviously this would be a stressful activity: ridding his house of a malignant and dangerous presence, but he wondered what she would be like if she relaxed just a bit and let the wild hair actually loose. Gods he loved her hair. It was just as alive and wild as the witch. He wanted to twine his hands through it, pull it back so he could ravage her mouth and neck. But the wildness of her spirit he saw mirrored in her hair was chained down by her overzealous personal rules that seemed to exist solely as an overcorrection for her monstrous rule-breaking during her Hogwarts years.

Speaking of rules, Lucius remembered that reaction to a direct order: a shiver and compliance, arousal. He wouldn't describe himself as a Dominant, but her submission did things to him he wasn't prepared for. He imagined how far that compliance would go, how far she would allow him to push her.

A grandfather clock thundered in another room. 8 am.

 _It's time._

Lucius gathered himself, shaking off his usually inappropriate thoughts of Granger, and disapparated to his main gate.

/

Hermione apparated in front of the Manor's gate since ancient protections, like those at Hogwarts, prevented apparition onto or within the premises unless it was a Malfoy doing so. She looked around: completely alone. Hermione checked her watch: 5 minutes early.

 _Of course they'd either get here right on time or late,_ she thought with a roll of her eyes.

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and looked straight at the building that held only terror for her. Her heart started to pound, adrenaline coursing through her veins, her brain screaming at her to run.

 _You're safe. You're safe. You're safe._

 _He's dead. You're alive. He's dead. You're alive._

 _No one is going to let you get hurt. Not even Malfoy._

This thought surprised her. But upon thinking about it, it was true. She had never felt unsafe around Malfoy. Incredibly irritated, infuriated, and enraged? Absolutely. But never like he would hurt her. Not to mention, even with the Ministry's easily-won trust, allowing her to be harmed in his own home would surely bring in to question whatever it was that kept him out of Azkaban.

Hermione steadied her breathing, closing her eyes to focus on returning her heart rate to its resting status.

She almost choked on her breath at a loud crack that echoed through the air, willing herself not to release the shriek of surprise that almost slipped out. _Seriously, Hermione? You were in a war for Merlin's sake. Control yourself._ Hermione opened her eyes and there, behind the ostentatiously ornate gate, stood the one and only Lucius Malfoy.

 _Sweet Merlin it should be a crime to look that good._

He was dressed in muggle attire, to Hermione's surprise. The black slacks he wore were breathtakingly tailored (of course anything he wore, muggle or not, would be outlandishly nice, not to mention expensive) hanging off his hips in such a way that accentuated his powerful legs and broadness in build. It seemed that Draco had inherited his leanness from his mother's side as the older Malfoy looked like he a sodding Nordic god. His shirt was tucked, showcasing a smooth transition from his hips to his stomach. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up just above his elbows, showcasing his stupidly strong and masculine-looking forearms. He had left 3 buttons (Hermione counted) open, revealing a prominent collar bone and the beginnings of a very defined chest. Hermione guessed she never really thought about what was held underneath his incredibly expensive yet austere robes, but she knew she would never have imagined _that_. His hair was loose, a new style to Hermione as he always kept it tied back in that black ribbon during working hours, framing his aristocratically structured face in an almost roguishly charming sort of way..

He looked (for lack of a better word) _sexy_. He was incredibly dignified, but also just effortlessly attractive, all wrapped up in one very well-dressed package.

 _He's literally in just black pants and a white shirt, Hermione, get ahold of yourself. You've seen a lot of men dressed like this.  
_  
She could have laughed at herself. No other man came even _close_ to looking like him, same clothes or no.

"If you're quite done ogling me, Granger?" came his soft and velvety voice, laced with amusement.

 _Shit._

She had been caught red handed.

Thankfully, two deafening cracks ripped through the tense atmosphere, and there stood Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, allowing her to not even attempt to meet the older Malfoy's gaze as she could turn her full attention to some old friends.

The duo greeted Hermione warmly, with bear hugs and goofy grins. She was glad to see them, not only for being her saving grace from a very embarrassing situation, but also because it had been a while since she had last seen them. She was busy with her work and they were busy, as Aurors, trying to rid the Wizarding World of those that would still do it harm.

Both the Aurors were grown men now: Seamus short and thick, with that same lopsided grin, Dean tall and lanky, serious as always.

"Blimey Hermione," came Seamus's tinkling Irish accent, "we were surprised to get this request involving you. Especially — you know — being _here_." Seamus was never the most tactful. He reminded her of Ron a lot of the time, just with a few more explosions here and there.

Hermione bit back a grimace. She sometimes forgot how much the public knew of what happened with her, Harry, and Ron during their time hunting down Horcruxes. Most of what occurred in the actual drawing room of Malfoy Manor was kept quiet, primarily because no one knew the full story besides those that were present, but still, people talked and made wild assumptions. Tabloids loved to make up absurd, gory stories, describing her and her friends like warlords that kicked ass and took names, when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Believe me, if I didn't have to be here, I wouldn't," Hermione muttered. She hoped that Malfoy didn't hear that, not wanting to begin their hostilities before they had even started this crucible, but she still refused to look in his direction.

Noticing his quiet presence, Dean looked at Malfoy. "Is there a reason you're still behind that gate, Mister Malfoy? Worried Hermione might find her way in?" Old rivalries died hard.

A sneer etched itself on Malfoy's face. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Thomas, you need to place your hand on the gate so that the Manor will recognize that you're my invited guests and won't kill you on the spot." The men's eyes narrowed, rolling their shoulders at the threat. Malfoy continued, sweeping his hand through the air, motioning to the entirety of his residence.

"A necessary precaution since its last occupants," he said simply, obviously unperturbed by the aggressive display by the two men. "I can't grant my approval without being on my grounds. Hence the position."

 _That's absurdly powerful magic._ Old _and powerful magic_ , Hermione thought with surprise, chastising herself for how much she underestimated the wizard. The man was powerful, simply put: physically, intellectually, magically. She remembered watching him duel during their time at the Ministry her fifth year and then again at the Battle of Hogwarts: he was a sight to behold. Vicious, calculating, precise but explosive. He was a warrior. And a formidable one at that.

The three friends exchanged looks, both the men looking like they would refuse to touch the offensive gate. Hermione sighed. Sometimes if guys would actually _think_ instead of puffing up like a peacock, they might actually get something done efficiently. Of course Malfoy wouldn't cause harm to come to them, that would be an incredibly nonsensical and illogical move, but Hermione highly doubted the Aurors were logically analyzing the situation.

Malfoy's steel gaze moved to Hermione as she took the lead and moved toward the gate, wrapping a hand around a cast iron turret. She forced herself to look at him. His eyes seemed to hold that same amusement that was in his voice a few moments ago as he raised that blasted eyebrow.

"So the lioness, herself, is the first to come." Sweet Merlin the way his voice caressed that last word almost make Hermione's knees weak. She inwardly shook herself. _If he thinks you're a lioness, then be a fucking lioness. Not this sniveling, swooning little girl.  
_  
She stubbornly held his gaze as her cheeks reddened, refusing to back down. He smirked as he muttered a spell she couldn't hear but it sounded very old and very complicated. The familiar warming sensation of magic spread from her fingertips down to her toes. The wizard watched her intently as the magic took hold, his smirk fading as his mind seemed to go off somewhere far away.

"You'll be safe in here now," the blond said softly, an unreadable look on his face. Hermione's eyes widened, surprised at his words, but also at the gentleness in which they were uttered.

"T-thank you," she stammered, wanting desperately to believe his statement.

Two very different hands reached around her as each Auror grasped a part of the gate, themselves, having used Hermione as guinea pig to make sure it was safe.

 _Some Aurors_ , she thought with a roll of her eyes.

"Now where's that bloody Unspeakable?" Seamus burst out, after having been cleared to enter the premises, obviously not enjoying his quality time with the elder Malfoy.

"Right here Mr. Finnigan," came a cool, otherworldly voice. Hermione almost jumped out of her skin again. Spinning around, she was met with a tiger-shaped patronus.

"What the hell is this?" Seamus said gruffly, brandishing his hand at the Patronus. The tiger smoothly looked at the Irishman.

"It's against protocol for you to know who I am. Part of the Unspeakable job description. This is the most effective way of communicating with you all and being present, while retaining my anonymity. Magic is also able to flow through a corporeal patronus, making it as if I'm there in the flesh."

The tiger swung its large head in Malfoy's direction.

"Mister Malfoy, if you would open the gate as I need no invitation? Are you ready to begin Miss Granger?"

/

Lucius saw the witch's back stiffen as she was addressed by the Unspeakable, obviously very much not ready to begin. He was starting to get very annoyed at how secretive this was being as this involved his place of residence. She nodded her head, almost frantically, and the tiger moved his paw like a hand, shooing it in a motion that meant to go ahead and move forward.

He flicked his wand and the old cast iron gate opened with a rackteous squeal. The strange conglomerate of individuals stepped through the barrier. It felt like all three were holding their breath, waiting for some sort of creature to come and devour all of them. Lucius saw a shiver go up Hermione's spine, and it didn't seem to be a fun one like what he had caused in the office yesterday.

"Miss Granger," the tiger's eerily disconnected voice came out of the tense silence, "You may begin with the necessary wards. Make sure you get all of him."

Lucius looked between the patronus and Granger, thoroughly confused as to what the hell was going on. What was Granger about to do? There were already ancient wards on his home. What the fuck kind of responsibility was the Ministry trying to slap on her shoulders?

"Before we do anything to my home, I need an explanation as to what the _hell_ is about to happen," he said, ice in his voice, not really to any individual in particular, but wanting to make sure they all remembered just whose house they were about to walk into.

The two imbeciles that would be Aurors nodded violently along with him. Apparently they were just as clueless as he. _What the fuck was the Ministry playing at?_ Lucius's annoyance was quickly morphing to anger.

Would he admit that it was probably because of their mistreatment of one Miss Hermione Granger? Absolutely not.

The tiger looked at him calmly (was he imagining facial features on this patronus?) and then addressed Granger again. "With your permission Miss Granger, it might be a good idea to let your counterparts know what they're in for."

The witch's whole body was tense, her teeth worrying that bottom lip. She was stressed. Incredibly so. She met his gaze, looking as if she was terrified for anyone, especially him, to know. Granger gave a hurried nod of acquiescence and turned her body away, as if trying to not see the reactions to whatever it was the Unspeakable was going to say.

The Patronus seemed to take a breath.

"Miss Granger has been awakened with the earth magick."

Lucius was dumbfounded. Finnigan and Thomas looked just as bewildered as they did before that nuclear warhead of a statement was uttered, clearly not understanding the gravity of what was just said.

No _wonder_ she looked like a fucking Phoenix rising daily. The witch was probably one of the most powerful creatures that walked the earth.

"Earth magick?" He choked out, "but that hasn't existed in—"

"500 years," came Granger's voice, a bit of an edge to it. She turned back to the group, eyes hard, face like stone. Lucius looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, taking in her magical signature as it pulsed around the witch. Of course it all made sense now: the vibrancy, the strange texture, the source of it coming from her feet rather than the usual heart area.

"What the bloody hell is earth magick?" Seamus blurted out. Lucius could tell it was going to take every ounce of his willpower to not hex the man into oblivion. How were they supposed to survive this task if they were surrounded by idiots? Were these two really the Ministry's best? He pressed his lips together, silencing his thoughts before they passed through his mouth. _Not the time.  
_  
"It's exactly how it sounds: magick from the earth. The first magick that ever existed, that we know of. The purest and strongest power that can be used," the Unspeakable responded. "Every century of so, the earth will choose a new witch to be wielder."

The lanky Auror's eyebrows furrowed. Lucius had deemed him as the smarter one of the duo and the much more bearable one (albeit one that needed to learn his place). "Why are we just now hearing about this? Earth Magick itself and Hermione having it?"

"Earth Magick is awakened within a witch at her greatest need. Miss Granger experienced this during the war." A shadow passed over Granger's face.

"As for not knowing about it to begin with—" the tiger started

"It's because all the wielders died before even having the power a year," Granger cut in, her voice low as her arms wrapped around her body, eyes trained on the gravel of the walkway that travelled up to the Manor. Her chin rose and her eyes met Lucius's, trepidation all over her face, but that Gryffindor stubbornness causing her to almost dare the listeners to pity her.

"I'm the first one since the 15th century to be alive for this long. Some, the power consumed. Others, the public killed out of fear." She said bitterly.

Lucius inwardly winced. Sometimes the wizarding world could be just as barbaric as what they described the muggle world to be. No wonder they had kept this information close to the chest. There were some very ancient families of Purebloods that have memories of trying to rid the world of earth magick. And with the wielder being a high profile muggleborn? She would need an armed guard just to get through Diagon Alley.

He watched the witch carefully, her arms still wrapping around herself, as if trying to create a barrier between herself and the rest of the world. She was afraid of the power she held within her, that much was evident. How could one not fear a power that had caused the death of whoever had it the past 500 years? Lucius was sure all Granger had heard were the negative accounts from the well-known a documented histories. His personal collection, however, contained history written by Purebloods for Purebloods and he distinctly remembered passages speaking on earth magick and its wielder. The girl had no idea what potential she housed. How _valuable_ she was.

"I would appreciate if that information stayed within this group, please," Hermione said stiffly. "Not very many people know and I'd like to keep it that way." The stout Auror looked like he was about to argue, but Lucius shot him a cool look and he promptly shut up. The girl didn't need anyone questioning her at the moment. Judging from her body language, she was utterly overwhelmed.

"Of course Hermione. Whatever you want," the more bearable Auror said gently. "Do Harry and Ron know?"

Granger shook her head, eyes staring at a loose rock on the ground.

 _Damn, Granger, not even those you say are your closest friends?_ Lucius felt sympathy rise in his chest again at the loneliness the witch must feel, understanding all too well.

"It's better they don't know. They don't need to worry anymore about me. Not after everything that's happened," she said.

Lucius burned with sudden anger. Someone needed to tell those two idiots that their "best friend" was burdened with the most powerful and dangerous magick ever and she thought herself not important enough to be worried about. He wondered how she had even come to view herself in such a light.

There was a long pause as everyone digested the last few minutes of mind blowing information. The Unspeakable's patronus took a breath.

"It's time to begin. The longer we wait, the stronger his grip is and the further he goes into the world. Miss Granger, you know what to do."

The witch took a rather large breath, raised her chin, in the usual determined and stubborn manner, squared her shoulders, and faced the Manor. Lucius couldn't take his eyes off her, impressed with her resolve, but also curious as to what was about to happen. He was about to witness earth magick in the flesh.

She closed her eyes, raising her hands so her elbows were at 90 degree angles and her palms were facing the ground. Her face raised to the sky and she simply took a breath.

It was like a beacon had been lit. Lucius was almost blinded by the sheer brightness of the power that was pulsing around the girl, squinting to take her in in all her majesty. Instead of cords of fire wrapping around her body, she was engulfed in white flames. Embracing her full power, Hermione Granger was _magnificent_.

Lucius had to focus to blind the Veela so that he wouldn't lose all eyesight function, not wanting to take his eyes off the witch, but also not wanting to burn his retinas to ash. Her eyes opened after a moment, face relaxed but determined as if the power coursing through her gave her confidence and life. She was beautiful.

"You should've stayed dead old man," she muttered, crouching down. Granger grabbed a handful of dirt with her left hand and, rising to her feet quickly, threw that dirt in the air with a graceful arc of her arm, bringing up her other arm, with her hand outstretched. The soil froze in the air and proceeded to be crushed into a fine dust. The witch did not utter one spell, the soil simply _obeyed_.

"Show yourself, you monster," her tone was low and gruff. The fine dust spread like a mist over the entirety of the Manor, showcasing the shadow that Lucius had felt fall onto the abode months ago. He heard the two Aurors swear harshly as they took in the sight. The shadow was moving and pulsating, almost forebodingly. Looking around, he noticed the shadow reaching far off in the distance, out of sight. Lucius could recognize the Dark Lord's signature now, sickly red and green tendrils of power. How the hell was it covered from his view in the first place? Maybe Riddle had taken precautions, knowing of Lucius's abilities to an extent (Lucius had done his best to keep some of his secrets from the creature), not wanting to be hindered in possibly coming back to life.

The witch took one step back and turned her head opposite to the Manor, twisting her torso without moving her hand that held the dust suspended in the air. She raised her other arm, fingers spayed toward the world that existed outside of the mansion.

"Come."

The shadow flew from all directions as if being sucked into the vacuum that was Granger. The outside darkness was pulled from the air to the witch, seeming to pass through her body to exit out her other palm in order to combine with the original dark shadow blanketing the house. The darkness pulsated and grew as the essence of the Dark Lord accumulated.

Minutes passed as this process continued. It would seem that the Dark Lord's presence had grown and spread miles from the Manor. Granger's face started to twist into a grimace, showing the strain of having so much dark energy pass through her. Finally, the last tendrils of his rank energy filtered through her until it looked like the Manor was encompassed by a black cloud.

Granger stepped up so that her body was parallel to the Manor and raised both splayed hands in the air, never breaking her concentration or her link to the power. The shadow began to shift into a dome shape, the bottom of which cut off about halfway down the Manor's facade. The witch's palms flicked down to face the ground and she made a motion as if she was pushing the air down, compacting it. It looked like it caused a great strain, as if the resistance was almost too much for her to handle. But, as her palms pressed downward, the dome's bottom stretched to the ground.

Granger's teeth were bared in an animalistic grin, her entire body trembling under the strain, her arms inching downward, mirroring the dome sealing, at an excruciating pace.

Malfoy turned to the Patronus. "Is there anything at all we can do for her? This alone looks like it could destroy her. How is she supposed to survive getting rid of him from the whole Manor if trapping him in there is so difficult?" The tiger was watching Hermione intently, and responded, never taking his eyes off of the new earth magick wielder.

"In this state she can siphon magic from another. But that individual would have to be powerful, almost inhumanly so, otherwise the earth magick would burn them up from the inside out." The patronus turned its head to look at Lucius levelly, "With what you are, Mister Malfoy, you would be a prime candidate to help her. Power-wise, you're almost her equal."

How the hell did this Unspeakable know what he was?! He never even told Severus when he was still alive.

"It's our job to know everything that goes on in the wizarding world, Mister Malfoy. We had precautions in place when it came to you when you were still aligned with the Dark Lord." The Unspeakable's voice didn't betray any feeling about his allegiances, merely stating facts. "Hold onto her and make skin-on-skin contact. The magick will do the rest."

Lucius nodded and stepped toward the witch but was blocked by the shorter, irritating Auror who glared up at him.

"And where do you think you're going?" He said accusingly, laughably assuming he could impede Lucius.

"Step aside you silly man. I'm helping her survive, which I would assume you'd prefer she do," Lucius sneered and he pushed past Auror Finnigan, marching up to the girl.

/

All Hermione could hear was the roar of magick as it pulsed through her body. She was on fire. She was ice cold. She was 50 meters tall. She was 6 centimeters small. Her body was in complete chaos, but it was euphoric. This was the danger of the earth magick, why other witches were consumed, once you got a taste of that power, you never wanted to let go. You wanted _more_.

But Hermione was tired. Voldemort's shadow was astoundingly massive, and passing it through her to be sealed off had felt like walking through 10 kilometers of ghosts. It was spine-chilling. Pure darkness. Unrelenting hatred. Where earth magick was pure, this shadow was warped, distorted, filthy. It had caused a battle to be waged inside of her as the earth magick rioted, trying to cleanse itself.

And his shadow fought back like it was alive. She barely had enough energy to try to seal him off within the Manor. Having him in one place, unable to move, would make it easier to rid the world of him for good, but getting him to the one place proved to be incredibly difficult. Her entire body was trembling. She grit her teeth, searching for some degree of strength to finish the seal, but she was faltering fast. Her vision was fading as her body started to succumb to fatigue.

Suddenly she felt a large hand snake around her waist, pushing her up against a very firm chest, supporting her. Another hand reached up and long, elegant fingers gently wrapped around her left wrist. The rolled up, incredibly expensive white sleeve was all she needed to see to know just who it was that held her. But she didn't recoil. Hermione leaned into the wizard, somehow understanding that he meant her no harm, but was actually helping. She didn't have enough energy to dedicate to wondering if she actually liked the physical contact, but her instincts said to trust him, at least for this little bit of time, so she did.

"There you go little lioness. I've got you. Take what you need." He voice was low in her ear, making her body shiver. The magick within her made her blood sing at the smooth richness of his voice.

She felt her magick dip into him and connect with his own magic, drawing on his strength.

And suddenly, for one earth shattering moment, everything was _right_.

Her magick burst out of her like an overcharged battery and her arms pushed down through the air, slamming through the resistance as the dome of shadows reached the ground and sealed the wretched darkness off from the rest of the world.

The only sound Hermione heard in the deafening silence that followed was her own labored breathing. Exhaustion came over her like a thief in the night, her knees buckled, and the last thing she felt was gentle hands catching her and lifting her up before she could hit the ground.

/

 **Not as yummy of a chapter, but I think a cool one nonetheless. Don't worry, things will start to heat up soon, just need to let you in on a few details. Let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Hermione awoke to the sounds of a quietly crackling fire and the delicate rustle of a page turning in a book, her favorite sounds. She was extremely groggy, her eyes still closed as her body argued with itself over whether it was really time to wake up or not. She was so comfortable.

She stretched her legs out as far as they could, relishing in the delicious pain of a deep stretch. The sheets felt wonderfully cool on her skin as her hand rubbed the sheet-clad mattress, moving it back and forth until it was nestled under her head, underneath a pillow. Everything felt luxurious and silky and wonderful.

Hermione froze.

This wasn't her bed.

Her eyes snapped open and there sitting quietly at the bedside in a particularly comfortable-looking antique armoire, sat the Adonis himself, Lucius Malfoy.

He hadn't noticed her stirring (or was an absolutely astonishing actor), seeming to be completely enraptured by a rather ancient looking, leather bound book with gold runic lettering running up the spine. Hermione watched, almost entranced, as the wizard's long fingers slowly ran their way down the side of the page, lifting the bottom corner ever so gently, and brushing the leaf over.

She felt like she needed to release the breath she had unconsciously been holding as she watched that display.

His gentleness astounded her: his careful hands, the delicate way he held such an old book. The warm glow of fire cast a comfortable light on the room, hitting Malfoy's face in a particularly beautiful way. He still wore the exquisitely tailored muggle clothing, looking like a painting by a master artist as he sat and read. She thought back to all the time she'd seen him duel, a vicious warrior, and how right now he looked the complete opposite.

As he read, the wizard had no need to close off his face. He was relaxed and at ease in his own home, something that translated to very different resting expression than Hermione was used to. He usually was so unreadable, stone-faced, or had on that damned smirk. Now, his face was just— his face, no changes to try to hide his thoughts. It showed absolute contentment.

Hermione studied that face. The planes were severe: impossibly high cheekbones that would make any witch moan with envy, a nose that almost looked like it was fashioned in the womb to be just the slightest bit upturned, a jawline that was— _incredible_ , elegantly arched, barely-there blonde eyebrows that framed the intensely grey Malfoy eyes. Aristocratic features, the severity of which were softened by his silky blonde locks that fell charmingly in his face while his head was bowed to read and the delicacy of which were opposed by the sheer broadness and masculinity of the wizard.

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. He was fucking beautiful. How annoying.

"My, my Miss Granger. Ogling again?" Came Malfoy's low, sinful voice, his eyes still trained on the book in his hands, "One would have assumed that you might have learned your lesson from the last time." He looked up at her, the smirk (of course) on his face, laughter dancing in those grey eyes, and closed the book he was reading. He leaned forward.

"It's rude to stare."

Hermione shrank into the heavenly cushioned mattress, thinking maybe she could just melt into the cloth, as she felt her cheeks heat, her eyes wide as they stared into his. He was very close to her. The armoire was right beside the bed and with him leaning forward, Hermione could extend her hand and touch his face. _Very close_.

Her heart started to pound as adrenaline coursed through her veins again. She screwed her eyes shut to try to control her breathing. Terror welled up in her throat, threatening to choke her.

A large, gentle hand came up to cradle her cheek, the thumb stroking her face.

"Come back Miss Granger. You're safe. No one will hurt you here." Her eyes opened wide at his soft and sincere words, heart rate slowing.

Oh. He was closer now.

Oh and her head hurt. Badly. Oh it hurt _a lot_.

Her hands came up to her head, the heels of her palms pressing into her forehead, trying to rub away the blinding pain that pounded from inside her skull. The pain spread to down her spine, flaring out to make her muscles ache and tremble. Hermione's eyes clamped shut again as she fought the urge to groan out loud.

What was happening? It felt like her entire body was just one big cramp, like it was trying to buck off a problem or reach with too much energy into empty air. Her knees drew up, an instinctual solution to the pain. Her palms pressed harder to her forehead. It felt like her entire skull was going to explode.

Large, gentle hands delicately grabbed her wrists and pulled them from her face and then—

 _Oh_.

He was touching her again.

Malfoy's hands cradled her head, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her temples.

That felt good. Sweet Merlin it was _good._

With his skin on hers, she felt warmth flood into her body as each muscle seemed to unknot and relax. The throbbing of her head eased until it was almost nonexistent. Her eyes opened slowly to view a very concerned looking Malfoy Senior, his brows furrowed as he studied her face. His ministrations paused as he noticed her body relax, but his hands didn't move from their gentle hold of her face.

"The Unspeakable said you would go through something like withdrawal symptoms after using that much power. Said you might need to siphon my magic again," the man said lowly, his eyes searching her face, as if making sure she was alright.

Siphon?

Then Hermione remembered. The darkness. The seal she couldn't do on her own. Malfoy holding her up. Malfoy's magic intertwining with hers. The filthy things her magick whispered in her ear when the breath from his voice fanned over her neck as he gave her permission to take from him.

And she had just done it again. Taken from his magic. Used it to strengthen herself. And he had given it again. _Willingly_.

Hermione was speechless.

Everything that had happened in the last five minutes had left her doused in the cold water of every expectation being destroyed before her very eyes. Everything she had convinced herself Malfoy was, was being directly opposed. The ex-Death Eater was helping in getting rid of the Dark Lord, opening his home freely to the Ministry. The bigot had willingly mixed his magic with hers, supporting her. He had touched her without disgust, holding her as if she was something precious. Come to think of it, ever since the war, Hermione couldn't remember a time that Malfoy had actually insulted her. Was he arrogant, completely obnoxious, incredibly stubborn, enjoyed her humiliation too much during a case questioning, absolutely intimidating in his wealth and poise, and definitely not a "nice guy"? Yes. But the cruel Lucius Malfoy, the wizard that she thought she should fear, was not the man that held her face in his hands.

The blonde's corners of his lips curved upwards in a small smile as two fingers twined around one of her curls and tugged it gently. He let out a low chuckle, shaking her out of her reverie.

"You're thinking too hard Miss Granger. Don't hurt yourself."

Hermione suppressed a sigh of disappointment as he removed his hands from her face and leaned back in her chair. Then she immediately inwardly slapped herself.

 _Get ahold of yourself woman! It's not like he's uncomfortable touching witches. Don't make this a moment!_

He might not be as awful as she had made herself believe, but she still needed to be on guard. There were many wizards out there that had tried to get in her knickers simply because of who she was: the ultimate conquest. There was many a failed date that ended with her almost hexing men that were way too forward, some trying to force their way into her own apartment. With his arrogance, Hermione wouldn't put it past him to try as well.

Not to say that she even halfway believed he was interested in her. She remembered all the gorgeous witches that she barely held a candle to whom he just cast to the wayside after he was finished with them. If that "conquest" is even partially on his mind, it would only be to humiliate her: the Gryffindor princess defiled by the Slytherin King.

Now irritated with herself, she rose to a seated position. "Where am I?" Malfoy smirked at her rustled state.

"Your rooms for however long you wish to stay," he replied simply. "I assumed taking you to my quarters would make you uncomfortable, but I do say my bed is _much_ better." His tone of voice made her mouth dry, her mind drifting to the implication of his words.

"Where are the others?" She tried desperately to keep her mind at the task on hand.

"The Unspeakable left for the day. They said you need to save your strength and we'll start again tomorrow. Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas have wives and have no wish to stay here over the night, but are waiting until you wake to see that you are in good health before they leave."

Hermione blinked at the news, deflating. "But I thought—"

"That everyone would stay? Unfortunately no, Miss Granger. Apparently you're the only one that is mandated to remain here. I was told that you know the reason as to why that is." He regarded her curiously.

Hermione brought her knees to her chest, bowing her head so her hair covered her face and her view of him. Some days she hated this power inside her. It was supposed to be freeing, but only left her caged. And alone.

"If I leave, it'll get worse," she said lowly. There was no point in lying or hiding this from him. "Ending him only works if it's all the way done. Otherwise, the magick I put into him, he just absorbs."

/

Lucius sat back in his seat as he digested this new bit of information.

The witch was trapped here. The last place where she would want to be and she couldn't leave. All in the name of duty. That feeling of pity rose in his chest again, watching the witch as she sat curled up in her new bed for however long this ordeal would take. A prisoner of the Manor once more. There was an urge to take her in his arms and try to make her sadness disappear.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. That you have to be here." It felt like his mouth had a mind of its own. He hadn't planned to say that.

Her face snapped to his, surprise written all over her face, an emotion that seemed to have settled there since she had woken up. She blinked at him a couple of times, then bent her head back down to look at her knees again.

"I guess it could be worse."

Lucius's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"At least this isn't Umbridge's house," she said, a small smile gracing her lips.

Lucius laughed, noticing her jump in surprise at the sound. "I feel like a lilypad is more descriptive of her abode than a house is." Hermione placed her hand over her mouth and snickered. He liked the sound.

She faced him again. "May I ask what you're reading, Mister Malfoy?" Ever curious when it came to books. He had counted on that.

Lucius stroked the spine of the tome in his lap slowly with his fingertips, up and down, down and up. He noticed her eyes flick down to watch this movement. Just like she had stared at him as he read when she thought he wouldn't notice. She was biting her lip. Filthy thoughts of the book being replaced with her body entered his mind, of what he could do to make her bite that lip to keep from screaming. The Veela was starting to make it very hard to be in the same room with her.

 _Focus_.

 _Control_.

"Families like mine liked to keep their own records of history. Much more accurate when politics were left aside. There are multiple accounts of witches that were awakened like you in these and I wanted to research as much as I could about the power that had tapped you." Hermione's eyes widened and she moved towards him suddenly.

"Can I read it?" She was on her knees, leaning on her hands, looking at the book in his lap, completely unaware of the delicious view down her light jumper that she gave him in that position. That hungry, curious look on her face left his mind wheeling as to how he could cause it himself. He smirked as he pulled the book off his lap and held it away from her reach, leaning forward. Her eyes slowly moved upward to meet his, cheeks reddening at his proximity, but not moving away from him.

 _Come out to play, little lioness._

"Only if you ask nicely, Miss Granger."

She always had that reaction whenever he was close: that delicate blush that ran across the top of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Such shyness. Lucius halfway wondered if it was because she didn't have any experience with a wizard this close to her. With her spending so much time in her work, it wouldn't be surprising if she didn't have time for a relationship. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing a wizard hanging around her office that was under the age of 75.

"Tell me, Miss Granger. Have you ever let a man this close to you while you sat ready and waiting on a bed?" He smirked at the indignant look on her face, her blush deepening as she shoved her body back to land on her backside, her knees up to her chest again.

"T-that is absolutely none of your damn business, Malfoy!" She cried, outraged. Lucius chuckled at her reaction.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he said, leaning back in his chair, placing the book back in his lap and crossing his arms over his chest, surveying her. She mirrored his movement, crossing her arms as well, and glared at him. Seeing her on a bed in front of him, flushed as she was, caused blood to flow down to his groin.

 _Gods._ She made him feel like a horny schoolboy again with the way he responded to just _looking_ at her.

"What I do or do not do with anyone is none of your concern!" Lucius chuckled again.

 _Oh but it is._

"Maybe that's why you're wound so tight, Miss Granger. You haven't had anyone to properly _unwind_ you," he said lowly.

 _Control, Lucius. Go too far and you might lose yourself._

The witch bristled. "I am not wound tight," she huffed.

"Oh I beg to differ, Miss Granger. I don't think I've ever met anyone as uptight as you." He loved the way her eyes flashed with she was riled.

"Well maybe that's because you choose to spend your time with rather looser individuals," she spat. Lucius raised his eyebrow.

"And just how do you know that Miss Granger?" He practically purred at her, "Been keeping an eye on me?" She got redder.

"You wish, Malfoy," she replied scathingly, "it's just a tad difficult to not notice witches physically throwing themselves at you. I don't know how you deal with all that. It must be exhausting being at your age."

"Believe me, Miss Granger. My stamina is more than capable of dealing with _all that_."

Her eyes flickered at his words. A normal man wouldn't have noticed, but he saw her eyes dilate. Arousal.

She quickly tried to cover that up with a snort, lifting her chin up and drawing breath to utter what Lucius assumed would be a particularly witty retort. But he was tired of verbally sparring with her.

Before she could utter a word, Lucius reached out, rising slightly out of his seat, and, quick as a flash, grabbed her ankle and pulled her from across the bed to him. The witch squealed, but made no attempt to get away, maybe too surprised to react quickly. She ended in a seated position with her legs in between Lucius's, his hands on either side of her hips as he leaned forward, slightly bent over the bed, looming over her. Her hands had unconsciously gone to wrap around his upper arms in an effort to catch or steady herself. He was almost nose to nose with her and she drew in her bottom lip with her teeth to chew on, but still did not move. Lucius smirked and leaned down further so his lips were near her ear.

"Don't believe me Miss Granger? Care to call my bluff?" She shivered as his breath delicately brushed against her neck. His left hand reached up to curled around the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her jawline, back and forth, back and forth, mirroring his touches on the Purebloods History Book that had seemed to transfix her.

She was so skittish in how she handled having a man so close to her. Eyes wide. Blush deepening. Nothing about her body showed a fear of him, though.

His Veela roared with triumph as she released a small sigh and leaned in his hand, her eyes flickering closed. His felt just a trickle of magic being pulled into her, intertwining with her own magick, relaxing her. He had guessed right. With her being so turned on by a simple command the previous day, Lucius had taken the chance that there were other aspects of him taking control that the witch would love.

He could smell her. Fuck, she smelled _good_.

Merlin, he wanted to taste her. Devour her. Consume her. _Take her_.

He faced her again, using his grip on her neck to gently position her face to look up at his.

"Look at me witch."

With a sharp draw of breath, her amber eyes flew open. Dilated again. The fiery ropes of her magick were reaching out to connect with him, slinking from her fingertips to wrap around his arms, tendrils rising from the rings around her pelvis, coaxing him to her. She wanted him.

The Veela purred underneath his skin, itching to be released, but he held the beast at bay. He didn't want to scare her off. He needed to go slowly. Her skittishness concerned him. She wouldn't be like the other witches he had tasted.

"Tell me to stop, Hermione." Lucius said, his voice almost at a whisper. Her reaction to him using her full name was absolutely lovely. He continued to stroke her face, his right hand moving slowly to touch her thigh. He mirrored his ministrations on her cheek to the side of her thigh, sliding his hand gently up and down, down and up. Her breath hitched and her hips moved ever so slightly, as if she needed to relieve some pressure.

 _Fuck_ , she was responsive.

He angled his head downward, looking to consume her mouth. But he stopped at a breath's distance, wanting her to make the final step. Wanting her to make the decision to give in to him.

She leaned forward.

Her magick reached out to him from all parts of her body. She lifted her face to his, her lidded eyes darkened by her arousal.

A loud banging came from the door.

" **HERMIONE!** " came an Irish tinged bellow.

/

The reverie broke. Hermione's eyes widened in horror. She was too close to him. He was too close to her.

Terror pounded in her chest, chilling her spine. She was losing control. Everything was _wrong_.

"Steady, little lioness," came Malfoy's voice. He had sank back in his armoire, he face guarded, now sitting directly at her level and no longer touching her.

"Where's that Gryffindor bravery?" He tone was not unkind.

"Collect yourself, Miss Granger. I have the feeling you'd rather them not see you in this state." His calm voice helped Hermione come back down.

He raised his hand slowly up to brush a curl away from her face, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin. Again, his magic lightly flowed into her, twining around her, pooling into her lower abdomen, making her skin tingle, but her body relax. Every time his skin touched hers she wanted to go mad. Hermione could feel her magick reaching for him, urging her to give into that delicious clenching of the muscles in her lower belly.

Her heart rate slowed yet again and she began to take account of her body methodically. A strategy to calm herself she used when things got more than a little upsetting.

Her toes to her feet to her ankles.

Where were her shoes? She looked around and there were her little white trainers right beside the bed. An endearing image came to mind of the Malfoy Senior putting her to bed, gently slipping her shoes off. Hermione shook her head, he probably had just levitated her to the bed and magically taken those shoes off, no need to romanticize passing out. Though it hadn't seemed like he had any problem touching her.

 _More control_.

Ankles to calves to knees to thighs. Oh how she had almost lost herself when he was raking his hand up and down her thigh.

 _Focus Hermione_.

Thighs to hips to pelvis. She had tried to relieve some of the tension built up in her body from his touches by moving her hips, but it had just exacerbated everything.

Pelvis to abdomen to chest to collar. Down the arms to her hands. Neck to face. How gently he had stroked her face. It had almost tickled, but instead left her a quivering mess, struggling to breathe.

Face to forehead to crown to curls.

Hermione took deep breaths through her nose. She was alright. Everything was fine.

Malfoy was just messing with her. Trying to rile her up and she had almost fallen for it. Hermione shoved the newfound thoughts on his changing ways in the back of her mind. In her embarrassment, it was much easier to think of him in the old light.

She quietly rose up from her seated position and went to the door, desperately trying not to meet Malfoy's gaze. It seemed that Seamus was trying to bodily break the door down. She opened it to view a very red faced red headed ruddy Irishman and a very apologetic looking Dean.

" **HERMIONE** ," Seamus bellowed again, obviously not noticing the door open. Hermione closed her eyes as the air from his yell hit her face and reopened them slowly, exasperation radiating from her body.

"Yes, Seamus, I'm right here," she said coolly. Seamus gave a sheepish grin.

"Oh! Sorry Hermione. We were just making sure everything was alright. We heard talking and figured you had woken up but then the door was locked and we got worried." He spoke hurriedly as his eyes shifted over to land accusingly in the direction of where Malfoy was sitting behind her.

"Everything is fine Seamus. I just woke up and Mister Malfoy was filling me in on what happened. I think I somehow forgot a few things." She may not be the happiest with Malfoy right now but she damn sure didn't want to deal with an explosive Seamus. "I heard you two were headed home."

The two Aurors exchanged glances and Dean responded. "We'd like to. But if you don't want us to go, we'll stay. We know this might be difficult for you." Dean caught her gaze making sure she understood that he was absolutely sincere. Hermione thanked Merlin for Dean's kindness and thoughtfulness. She had always liked him at Hogwarts and was glad to see how good of a man he'd turned out to be.

Hermione gave them a soft smile, praying to Merlin it looked believable. "I'll be perfectly alright here for the night. No need to worry at all. You two go home to your wives, I know they'll be looking for you."

Seamus looked at her intensely. "Are you absolutely sure Hermione? We'll stay. Just give us the word."

They reminded her so much of Harry and Ron. But Hermione knew Harry and Ron would have never left her here, regardless of her saying she was fine. She missed them, she realized with a pang.

"I'm absolutely sure, Seamus. Go home. You shouldn't stay here unless you have to. But thank you. I really do appreciate the thought."

"Alright, we'll be back bright and early tomorrow. But if you need us _at all_ Hermione, you send us a Patronus and we'll be here immediately." Dean was always so serious. Even moreso now after the war.

"Of course. Have a good night you two. Give Katie and Hannah my love." The two Aurors turned to walk away when Lucius's drawl came from nowhere, making Hermione jump.

"A moment, if you please." His chest came to brush up against Hermione's back as the wizard's two hands rested on both sides of the doorframe. Dean and Seamus turned to look.

" _Obliviate Momentaria_." Dean and Seamus's faces went slack and a whiteness passed over their eyes.

"You will not remember what happened today nor any of the new information about Miss Granger until you step on these grounds again. You will only know that you must be at the Manor tomorrow. Tell your wives this was a classified activity and cannot be discussed." Lucius's voice was sharp and businesslike. The two obliviated Aurors nodded dumbly and turned, marching down the hall like zombie to what Hermione assumed was the way to the front doors.

Lucius's head dropped down to her ear again. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, very aware of Malfoy and his well-defined chest that was pressed against her back. It was so easy to forget how much bigger Malfoy was than her, but with his arms spread, supporting his weight as he leaned into her, she remembered.

"You should be more careful, Miss Granger. With what you have inside you, there will be a lot of people who— _want you._ " Hermione drew in a ragged breath. His voice was pure sin. Dangerous but inviting. She wanted to be wrapped in it, melt in it. She unconsciously leaned back into his chest.

Suddenly the door slammed shut as she heard a growl from behind here. The sound was pure sex.

"Fuck this." Came a hoarse murmur.

She was spun around and pushed up against the door, her wrists gripped by one of his large hands and pushed above her head. Lucius's other arm snaked around her waist, splaying his hand on her lower back, pushing her body to meet his. Chest to chest.

His face drew close to hers, his eyes that molten silver as he surveyed her. His knee pushed between her legs, brushing up against her in a way that made her lower abdomen clench, causing her to cry out. His eyes flashed with what looked like triumph.

His hand moved from behind her back to rest on her waist, he thumb going just under the hem of her shirt to stroke a small span of skin on her stomach. He watched her intently, soaking in every reaction.

Hermione felt like her whole body was on fire. She couldn't think straight. All she knew is that she wanted Lucius to never stop touching her. Fuck everything she said about not wanting him and him just wanting to humiliate her. If it felt like _this_ , she'd take her chances.

Lucius leaned, yet again, to murmur deliciously into her ear.

"If I'm going to feel guilty, it's going to be for fucking _doing something_." He practically growled these words, the coarseness of which only driving Hermione more wild. His teeth dragged over her earlobe. Hermione gasped, arching her back so her chest pushed into his and extending her neck so he'd have more room. The small strokes on her stomach were driving her crazy.

Lucius chuckled at her reaction and brought his face back to hers once more. Gods that chuckle was so _fucking sexy_.

Sweet Merlin, she just wanted him to touch her and never stop.

Lucius searched her face, looking for any unwillingness, and, finding none, he lips were on hers.

 _Oh._

It shouldn't be that perfect, but it was. It was the perfect pressure, hard but not rough, passion oozing into her skin. He dropped his hold on her wrist to wrap his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Hermione tangled her now free hands in his silky hair, running her hands through the glorious tresses, tugging on it ever so slightly. An animalistic sound came from Malfoy's throat.

His nipped and sucked on her lips, taking her breath away. Someone shouldn't be able to kiss this well. It had to be a crime. Hermione couldn't remember the last time snogging was actually enjoyable. The way his mouth moved against hers made her whole body quiver.

His hands traveled down to grasp her ass, picking her up effortlessly, still keeping her back on the door. Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around him and suddenly the apex of her thighs were deliciously being brushed by something a little more suited than a knee.

She gasped and let out a small sound at the friction. Lucius used the gasp to enter his tongue in her mouth and completely claim her. He explored her. Consumed her. _Dominated_ her. Delicate in some ways, but hard and passionate in others.

Hermione held on for dear life as she responded to him. She was a bit more subdued, unsure, but he coaxed her to him until her passion rose to meet his. In another world, she might have been intimidated by his expertise, but he was particularly good at touching her in all the ways that shut her brain down.

She was dizzy. This shouldn't feel so— _right_. His hands molded and massaged her ass, making her light headed. Her hips ground down on his instinctively and Lucius growled, breaking the kiss. Hermione's breath was ragged as she sought to rebalance herself.

He held her still, but placed his forehead on hers, breathing slightly heavily, his eyes closed.

After a time he opened them, and Hermione was breathless from the want that swirled in his silver eyes.

"Be careful witch. You'll drive me mad and then there'd be no stopping me," he muttered. His voice was darkened with lust.

 _Sweet Merlin_ Hermione could lose her mind just listening to that voice forever.

Gently, he placed her back down on her own to feet, left a chaste kiss on her lips, and he was gone.

/

 **Sorry this one took a little longer to get out to you! Life has been a little crazy. I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!**

 **This is getting a little longer than I anticipated, but I'm just going where the story takes me. Hopefully you're enjoying reading it just as much as I enjoy writing it. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Lucius practically broke down the door to his private quarters in an effort to get away from her. His trousers were strained rather painfully and all he needed was release, one that he couldn't get from her. His Veela roared underneath his skin, urging him to go back to the witch and finish what he started.

He ran his hands through his hair, breathing heavily, trying to regain some degree of composure. He hadn't meant to give in, but it felt like she was his siren, calling him to drown in her.

Lucius stood in the middle of his room, mulling over what had just occurred in the room across the hall seconds ago. Touching her made him go insane. The Veela had blinded his rational thought, making him go much further than he had wanted. Her magick had stroked him, stirred him, urged him on.

But.

She had responded.

She had kissed him back. She had let him touch her. She had wrapped her legs around him. She had trembled at his touch and not out of fear.

The minute the apex of her thighs had rolled against his hips, he had almost lost his mind. His hands had itched to rip those tight muggle trousers from her body to bury himself inside her to the hilt.

It had been in that moment that he remembered who he was and who she was. It was easy to break free from the haze of lust when he thought of how frightened she was whenever he got too close. Yes, her body might want him, but that didn't mean her mind did, even though the body could be very persuasive. But he'd be damned if he was going to push her into something she'd think was a mistake later.

Lucius sighed and headed to the bathroom that was attached to his room. The Manor was a magical entity of itself, responding to the master of the House, so the water was already running in his shower, steam billowing out from the glass screen. The wizard methodically undressed, trying to relax and regain some self-control. When he finally was able to undo his trousers, he let out a sigh of relief as his cock was finally released, still throbbing with need.

He stepped into the water, grunting when the heat hit him full force, but let it wash down his back, the heat outside cooling the raging fire of lust inside. Lucius turned with his head bowed so the water cascaded down his entire body. He raised up his left arm above his head to lean on his forearm against the stone shower wall, his right hand wrapping around the base of his member.

With a grunt he gave his cock a forceful pump. He had to find a way to control himself that didn't involve jerking off, but right now the only thing on his mind was the pretty little witch whose mouth made him want to do wicked things.

Hermione Granger was going to be his undoing.

/

Hermione leaned against the heavy, wooden door to her room, her fingers brushing over her swollen lips, mind failing to comprehend what just had happened.

 _I just kissed Lucius Malfoy._

Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat. This was absurd. This can't be happening. This can't be real.

She padded back over to the bed, a four poster she now noticed, and flung herself atop it, burying her head in the pillows.

She was losing her mind. She had just kissed Lucius fucking Malfoy.

Hermione gave a muffled groan.

But you know what? Lucius fucking Malfoy had kissed her too.

Hermione went still. What did that mean? Was he still just messing with her? Had she given in and given him ample ammunition to use against her? Maybe she could just act like it never happened and go about her life never thinking of the incident again. Could she do that even though she was going to be in close quarters with him for however long?

Sweet Merlin that would be easier if he had been bad at it.

But of course not. Lucius Malfoy was so _fucking_ good.

Hermione groaned in the pillow again. _You've got to stop thinking about it._

She picked her head up to actually survey the room she was in, desperately looking for a distraction. She had never stayed in something so nice: it was incredibly spacious, furnished beautifully with dark wooden pieces. Surprisingly, the room was relatively bright as two large windows released a great amount of light into the room. And the pleasant fire cracking in the corner seemed to be charmed to not release heat as the room was pleasantly cool. It was perfect in every way. How annoying.

Wait.

Looking over at the armoire where Malfoy had sat, Hermione noticed the book he had been reading. She gave a small smile.

 _I guess he really is going to let me read it._

Hermione rose from the bed and stood in front of the armoire, extending her hand to delicately touch the cover, almost worshipfully. She had read many an old book in her lifetime, but this one looked positively _ancient._

The witch noticed a door across the room and assumed it was a bathroom. Feeling like she needed a good relaxant after all the events of that day, she grabbed the book, casting protectant charms over it to waterproof it, and then went to the bathroom in order to draw a bath.

Walking in, Hermione almost gasped. If she thought the bedroom was nice, it was nothing compared to _this_. The bathtub was bigger than that of the Prefects bathroom at Hogwarts! To the corner stood a huge shower made up with stonework. A three mirrored vanity stood proudly in the across from the bath. Enchanted ocean scenes moved lazily across the walls. It was gorgeous and bright and clean and absolutely breathtaking.

Hermione laughed softly.

This place might be hell on earth. But it sure was a pretty hell.

/

Hermione groaned in frustration as she pulled her fingers through her very tangled, very thick, and very wet curls. She had forgotten her detangling potion that she had worked so hard to curate and now it felt like her whole head was a knot. She walked out of the bathroom wearing only a provided emerald green, probably expensive, towel feeling very refreshed, very clean, but also very irate.

The witch set the Malfoy tome down on the bed in annoyance. She had spent upwards to an hour in the bath scanning through the pages, desperately looking for some information about whatever it was that was housed inside her until she felt like her whole body was a prune.

 _Nothing_.

The only thing in that text was a disturbing history of all the ways Purebloods remained in power and in control of the wizarding world. Also apparently there were some ancient pejoratives for Muggleborns that had been forgotten, which Hermione didn't mind to stay that way. Impressively imaginative but still very offensive.

She was surprised to see how powerful the Malfoy family line was throughout the histories. There was not one main event in the course of the wizarding world that a Malfoy didn't have a hand in. At least according to that text.

What about them put them on such a pedestal? Why are they so powerful? In influence and magic?

Powerful magic was hereditary, yes, but the Malfoy line seemed to house some extraordinary wizards. Most of them incredibly bigoted and by far, not on the right side. But still, incredibly powerful.

Hermione was irritated. Of course Malfoy would tease her with a book and it end up being a complete utter waste of time.

Her stomach rumbled. Looking at the beautiful grandfather clock in the room, Hermione realized how late it was. She didn't know she had slept so long!

She needed to eat. If this day was going to be repeated until the Dark Lord's energy was gone, she needed to keep her strength up. Hell, if she was going to stay in close quarters with a man she felt like snogging and slapping in the same day, she needed to have some energy for the sheer amount of self control it would take to deal with that.

But clothes first.

Hermione looked around, exasperated. Of course she had gotten so excited about the book and a bath that she had forgotten to make sure her luggage was where she could find it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed something pop into existence: her small suitcase standing proudly in the corner. The witch halfway wondered if Malfoy could somehow read her mind.

She stopped.

What if Malfoy could read her mind? She knew nothing of his Legilimens skill.

 _Oh shit._

She hadn't even begun to protect her mind from unwanted prodding.

She shook her head. No helping that now. Just protect yourself and move on. Maybe he had the common decency to not go snooping into an unsuspecting mind. She chided herself for being that unsuspecting mind, feeling like her usual carefulness was slipping.

Hermione padded over to her suitcase and grabbed her pajamas: a matching red and gold set of sleeping shorts with a short sleeved button down. She gave up on her hair, letting it figure out what it wanted to do itself as it air dried. After slipping into her sleepwear, she walked over to her door ( _this room is huge!_ ) and peeked out.

She had no idea where anything was. It wasn't like she had been given the grand tour and she was too busy shoving her tongue down Malfoy's throat—

 _Weren't we supposed to be acting like nothing happened?_

Hermione assumed that the kitchen would be somewhere on the ground floor, near a dining area and so made her way down the huge hallway that Dean and Seamus had marched down after being obliviated.

She was grateful to Malfoy for doing that, something she didn't even think about. She might get an earful about it later, but Hermione appreciated the wizard taking necessary steps to make sure her secret was kept.  
 _  
Maybe he's not as terrible as I've always though? Nope. No. We're not doing this. Get the job done and get out._

Honestly why was this house so huge? The vaulted hallway ceilings lined with overly large portraits of the generations of Malfoys had to be as high if not higher than the Hogwarts castle. But there was a nice, plush, emerald green runner on the ground that felt very lovely underneath Hermione's bare feet, a homier addition than that of the stone work of her old school.

There were lit oil lamps that lined the walls, each casting a warm and inviting glow down the hall. Hermione didn't remember it being this cozy feeling, but the last time she was here, she didn't really have a chance to admire the furnishings of a house.

She was surprised it was so warm though, as she always assumed anything Malfoy related would be austere, cold, and harsh. But the Manor did feel like a home, one that was ridiculously large and extravagant, but a home nonetheless.

Hermione trailed her fingers over the rough stone walls as she walked down the hallway, coming to a massive and ornate staircase that curved downward. From her position, she saw a side door with a light on, the warm glow beckoning her to go in. She hoped it was the kitchen. After realizing her hunger, Hermione had been slowly working her way up to ravenous.

She quietly walked down the stairs and headed toward the open door.

And there, shoveling a heaping portion of ice cream in his mouth, stood a very shirtless Lucius Malfoy.

/

Lucius almost choked on his spoon when Granger walked through the door.

How can someone walk around looking so— _fucking sexy_ —and still look like the picture of innocence? Her red with golden filigree shorts that barely went halfway down her thighs were giving him a wonderful view of some deliciously curvy and toned legs that seemed to go on forever. He remembered how it felt to have those legs wrapped around him.

 _Control, you horny bastard._

Gods how was he supposed to have any control is she walked around looking like _that_?

Her eyes went wide, as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Her gaze drifted downward, raking over his bare chest, that delicate blush blooming on her cheeks. Her eyes dilated and she drew in her bottom lip to chew on.

Lucius could practically feel his ego swell at her reaction to him. He was no insecure little schoolboy, but it was always nice to have a pretty little witch appreciate the view. He smirked as he took in another spoonful of ice cream watching her eyes fixate on his mouth. Drawing the spoon out slowly, he addressed the witch.

"Hungry, Miss Granger?"

She sucked in a breath at his words. Lucius barely contained his laughter. Working her up, out of irritation or lust, was becoming his favorite pastime.

He could see her mentally shake herself as she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin.

She almost looked haughty when she lifted that stubborn chin up. Like the queen she deserved to be.

"Considering it's 8 o'clock at night and I haven't had a thing to eat, you bet your arse I am. Honestly, I expected you to be a better host, Mister Malfoy." Lucius didn't know how she would play it after their little incident, but he enjoyed her strategy so far. She wasn't being completely playful, still had her guard firmly up, but was willing to take a couple light jabs at him. He decided to play along.

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning affront. "You insult me, Miss Granger. I've been told my skills are unparalleled." Her eyes flickered at his double meaning. But that chin lifted again.

"All of that seems like just talk, Mister Malfoy." She was getting bolder. He took another bite of the ice cream, raising his eyebrow at her.

"You doubt me, Miss Granger? I can personally guarantee that you'll leave this place perfectly satisfied." There was a heady tension in the air. Similar to that of her bedroom.

"Prove it."

/

Hermione didn't know what had come over her. She had every intention of being cold and callous toward Malfoy the next time she saw him, but the visage of him shirtless addled her brain.

He was broad, but lean. Shoulders that looked like they could hold up the world that sloped down into two long, deliciously muscled arms. A powerfully defined chest that melted in a lithe, taut stomach, with hints of strong abdominals that peeked out with every movement and breath. And the most mouth watering V where his stomach flowed into silver silk pajama bottoms, that hung dangerously low. With his blond chest hair gleaming in the kitchen light, making him look like he was positively glowing, the man looked like a Greek god.

Hermione felt her magick ripple underneath her skin, pushing her, urging her, to go to him. She fought, but it felt like the earth magick had other plans and even seemed to control her mouth.

"Prove it."

She saw Malfoy's eyes gleam with some unreadable emotion and suddenly, he was very close again. Her chin had to lift so that she could maintain eye contact, trying desperately to ignore his and hers lack of proper clothing. A gorgeously sinful smirk blossomed on the man's face.

"Allow me," Malfoy murmured, his eyes filling with a heated amusement.

He brought up a spoon filled with the ice cream he had been eating to her mouth. She hesitated, searching his eyes for any type of malice. Finding none, she timidly opened her mouth, allowing him to place the spoon onto her tongue. She closed her lips around the utensil, and he drew it out at an agonizingly slow pace.

 _Holy shit that was some good ice cream_.

Hermione didn't know if she was starving or that actually was the best ice cream she had ever tasted, but upon tasting the rich vanilla flavor, her eyes instinctively closed as she let out a guttural noise of appreciation to her taste buds. She fluttered her eyes back open to see Malfoy's completely riveted to her mouth. He raked his heated gaze back up to meet hers, that smirk never leaving his face.

"Was that good, Miss Granger?"

Sweet Merlin, his voice. Dark and dangerous and sinful and tempting. It felt like his baritone mirrored the ice cream she had just consumed, rich and thick and probably not that good for you. She met his steely gaze and, licking the sweetness from her lips, nodded her head, unable to find her voice.

"Would you like more, Miss Granger?"

She could only nod again, his proximity making her words catch in her throat.

"More of what Miss Granger?"

Hermione was quiet. Now unsure.

What happened to acting like it never happened?

Malfoy set the carton down on the white marble topped island that, never breaking eye contact. There was a dangerous playfulness about him, like a panther hunting its prey. The tension in the air made Hermione feel like she couldn't breathe properly. Why did it feel like her respiratory system shut down every time she was around him now?

He was so large. So confident. So powerful.

The heady tension was broken by a garbled rumbled of Hermione's stomach. Lucius gave a deep laugh (his real laugh was a very pleasant thing to hear), turning his back to her as he walked toward a huge refrigerator in the corner of the room. Hermione released the breath she had been holding and watched him move around his kitchen.

His back was just as attractive as his front. Muscles that rippled underneath the pale skin that stretched over his broad shoulders. An ass that looked damn good in his silk sleep pants.

 _Get ahold of yourself, witch. Stop gawking. You've been caught too many times._

Opening the door, he scanned the contents, grabbing what looked like lunch meat and cheese. Holding those close to his chest, he padded over the a cabinet (Hermione noticed he was barefoot as well) and reached in to pull out a loaf of sliced bread and jars of peanut butter and grape jelly. He unceremoniously dumped the contents of his arms on the island and turned toward her.

"Normally, I'd be proud to serve you a full course dinner, but I let the elves go around 6, so this will have to do. Help yourself."

Hermione was dumbfounded. Firstly, his treatment of his house elves (she had worked tirelessly to create legislation that would benefit them, but the Purebloods had promptly shot it down, stating that the elves were perfectly happy where they were). It was kind! Humane!

Secondly, he was walking around his kitchen like it was a perfectly comfortable thing, like he had done it often. Hermione always imagined him as ordering his little servants for everything, never wanting to lift a finger, a spoiled brat. Here he moved about as if perfectly content not using magic. Like a domestic muggle.

Her head hurt with all the new discoveries surrounding the Senior Malfoy.

She realized she had been staring. And Malfoy was staring right back.

"Are you going to eat Miss Granger? Or sit there and stare at me all night?" His drawl was infuriating. Hermione bristled at his jab, drawing up her shoulders and stalking toward him.

"Not every day you witness a Malfoy walking around like a certified muggle," she said as she grabbed the loaf of bread, unwinding the twist tie, wondering if such a statement would offend him. He turned so he was shoulder to shoulder with her, waiting for her to get done with the bread.

"Wonders never cease I suppose," he murmured quietly, amusement lacing his words, as he carefully took the bread packet from her when she motioned she was done.

Hermione grabbed the jar of peanut butter. Malfoy provided a knife with an ostentatious flourish of his hand, ceremoniously handing the utensil to her.

 _Well maybe not entirely without magic._

She opened the peanut butter and piled a heaping helping of the spread to apply to her slice of bread. The witch methodically spread the condiment over the bread and repeated it for the other slice.

Hermione heard a light laugh beside her.

"Something amusing Malfoy?" She turned her head with narrowed eyes. He returned her glare with an amused expression.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone so focused on spreading peanut butter on a sandwich before." Hermione returned his comment with an indignant look.

"It's gotta have the same ratio of peanut butter to bread!" She cried. He snorted. She pointed the coated knife threateningly at the wizard. "Look, if you like to have a disproportionate amount of peanut butter all over your sandwich, go right on ahead. But as for me, my ratios will be perfect."

Malfoy raised his hands in mock surrender, a sincere smile gracing his face. "Fair enough, Miss Granger. I guess I was never taught the correct proportions. You mastery of the culinary arts is impressive."

Hermione laughed, returning his smile. Sometimes he could be charming, she guessed.

"Do you have any honey?"

A raised eyebrow look up surprise accompanied yet another flourish of his hand. He handed her a small glass jar of the amber sweetness.

Carefully, she opened the lid and drizzled honey over the peanut butter. After she was satisfied with her ratio, she topped the jar back and gingerly pressed the two slices of bread together. She brought her creation to her mouth and stopped when she caught Malfoy staring at her.

"What?"

His eyes looked upon her sandwich trepidatiously. "What is that?"

Hermione grinned. "Only the most delectable late night sandwich you will ever taste."

The wizard rolled his eyes in response. She tore off a piece of her sandwich and waved it in front of his face.

"Don't believe me, Mr. Malfoy? Care to call my bluff?" She echoed his words, a smirk that would make a Slytherin proud on her face. His silver eyes narrowed and he quickly grabbed her wrist, bringing it close to his mouth. Hermione's eyes fell to his lips, her breath catching as she watched his mouth open and some gleaming white teeth bare down to expertly extract the morsel from her fingers.

That had to be the most erotic thing she had ever seen.

Malfoy's eyes went wide as he chewed.

"That's exquisite." Hermione laughed at the boyishly charming surprise on his face.

"Would you like one, Mr. Malfoy?" She offered, smiling. He went still, his eyes searching hers, an unreadable expression on his face. Then.

He smiled back.

"Very much, Miss Granger."

So Hermione busied herself with making another sandwich as Malfoy turned leaned backwards against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, head turned to watch as she created another masterpiece.

After a long span of comfortable silence, Malfoy finally spoke.

"How did you find the book?"

Hermione gave a snort. "Useless."

Malfoy furrowed his brow, turning so that his hip leaned against the island, his body now facing her completely.

"Useless? You and I must have read a completely different text then, Miss Granger."

Hermione stopped slathering on the perfect amount of peanut butter and looked at the man incredulously.

"There wasn't anything in it, besides a very pretentiously elongated dialogue of how amazing it is to be a Pureblood and how disgusting it is to be a Muggleborn."

Malfoy chuckled. "Miss Granger, color me a tad—disappointed. I assumed you would have learned by now you can never take one of my kind just by what they say. You've got to look between the words—what goes unsaid."

Hermione's brow knit, now confused. Malfoy continued.

"Purebloods are an incredibly proud bunch. Anything that threatens their supposed superiority was and is viewed with animosity and hatred. They're private, yes, but incredibly thorough and detailed when it come to talking about themselves. That one book contained the history of just one generation: completely exhaustive. So think hard with that brightest-witch-of-her-age brain and try to remember anything that might have stood out as an odd sentence that left a lot to the imagination."

Hermione closed her eyes, mentally flipping through the pages of the history book.

"A female of tainted blood and stolen magic grew strong with an ancient power. She tried to seduce a man of pure blood and was burned for her crimes." She opened her eyes after her recitation to see Malfoy staring at her intently, an impressed look on his face that she tried not to preen under.

"And don't you think it a little—odd—that a text that is so _fucking_ long would gloss over something like that?"

He was right. How had she not noticed?

"That sentence is repeated over many of my texts. Some end with the witch being burned at the stake, others with the witch being consumed by her own fire." That made her feel a little better, at least he had had to read that line over and over again to recognize its importance. "But they all start the same: tainted blood with stolen, powerful magic."

"They were all muggleborn," Hermione breathed, finally understanding.

"Precisely, Miss Granger. Which is why the stories of the fearsome earth magick scattered throughout the generations of Purebloods. A muggleborn that powerful was a threat to their superiority and control. I remember my own mother telling me tales of the frightening power that would come and destroy all I held dear."

She didn't have a moment to thoroughly digest that bit of information because Hermione couldn't shake something. "Is the seduction of a pure blooded male mentioned in every text as well?"

"Every one I've gotten my hands on so far, yes," the blond headed wizard responded. She looked at him square in the face, setting her jaw for what she knew was going to be an unhappy answer.

"And what do you think that means?"

He hesitated.

"Mister Malfoy. Since this is my fate whether I want it or not, I'd like to know everything that I'm in for." She loathed how her voice trembled. She was a Gryffindor damn it!

Was that pity in his eyes? But Malfoy simply nodded his head curtly.

"I would assume a mating ritual of some sort."

/

Lucius watched, already prepared for her reaction, as Granger's eyes widened and her face paled. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising and falling at a too-fast pace. She took a step back, shaking her head, terror flaring in her eyes. Her magick started to draw into her midsection.

He went to her, hands cradling her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks, feeling his magic being pulled to her.

"Shhh little lioness. You're safe. No one will touch you here without you wanting them to. You have my word." He spoke softly to her, calling her terrified brain back down to reality. She blinked those big amber eyes at him. Her bottom lip trembled and she drew it in her mouth with her teeth to still it.

"Will it— will I— ?" She couldn't get out the words, but Lucius understood.

"Your magick may urge you to someone, make your self-control a little lacking, but no, Miss Granger, if the theory is correct, and based on my own understanding of magical mating, the mate to be chosen would be of your own accord. The ritual would happen because you want it to. The words of the text seem to put the witch in control." He could see the relief and calm wash over her body and quickly dropped his hands so that she wouldn't refocus and re-panic. He slid his hands in his pants pockets, looking down at the smaller witch that stood before him.

Then her inquisitive eyes met his again, too focused on the question she was about to ask to react to how close he was to her.

"Doesn't a mating ritual imply seriously negative effects when no mate can be found?"

 _Granger, you could have your pick of the lot. I highly doubt you'd have that issue._

"In other instances, take full blooded Veela for example, when a mate cannot be found, the searcher can go mad or whither away."

The witch's eyes closed, breathing through her nose, her hands going into her hair like she usually did during stressful situations. Lucius liked the look of her neck when her hair was up, slender and strong.

"Consumed by their own fire," she murmured.

"If our theory is correct, yes, I'm assuming that is what happens." He regarded her carefully, searching for any other signs that a panicked witch might surface.

"One of the instances of the wielding witch being consumed seemed to occur during the start of the Dark Ages." He watched her intently as he spoke, trying to be gentle but knowing he would want to know everything if this had happened to him. "I would also assume that when the magick exits from a wielder, it's a particularly violent exit. Perhaps mating keeps the magick calm."

The witch threw her hands in the air in exasperated desperation.

"But I don't— I haven't—"

"Judging by the fact you're the longest surviving wielder, you might have already found them. You said yourself the others never lasted more than a year." Her brow furrowed, seeming to be flipping through the men in her life, obviously wondering who it could possibly be. He continued.

"I would assume that simply meeting and being near your chosen mate is enough to keep your magick satisfied and you in full health. But I wouldn't be surprised if your magick starts to push you harder and harder to actually mate. Maybe there's something about it that locks your magick so that it becomes actually yours and doesn't harm you."

He laughed lowly. "I've never underestimated the power of a good fuck, but this goes beyond even what I thought what good it could do."

That pretty blush painted her cheeks at his crassness, her eyes focusing on him as if just now realizing their proximity. Malfoy noted it.

Maybe the minx likes it when his words are a bit rougher.

 _If only she could hear the thoughts I have daily about her._

A pang of jealousy ripped through him. Some other lucky bastard, whoever her mate was, was going to have her and keep her. A man would be a fool not to. Lucius brushed it away, clearing his throat.

"I think that's enough analysis of the power in you tonight, Miss Granger. You need to eat." He used his business voice again, leaning around the witch to grab a sandwich and taking a massive bite. He took the other sandwich and waved it in front of her face.

"Otherwise I'll eat both and you'll get none." He smirked at her as he chewed, noticing her body relax as she responded to his try at levity. She gave him a small smile and grabbed the sandwich out of his hands, taking a bite as well.

They both finished their sandwiches in a comfortable silence, backs leaned up against the counter, Lucius quietly observing the witch through the corner of his eye as they ate.

She was gorgeous.

Looking at her again, blinking away her magical signature, he was almost overwhelmed by her. A head of wild hair that framed her face in an organized chaos type of way. Her endearing heart shaped face, with a spray of light freckles across her small nose. Large and intelligent caramel eyes that still seemed to hold innocence within their amber pools, even after witnessing a war. Full rosy lips which he remembered could do beautiful things when being kissed soundly.

In her sleepwear, he was able to take in more of that golden skin that seemed to yearn to be touched. Her innocent sexiness made Lucius's knees weak. She was a temptation, her shyness and probable inexperience cautioning him to go slowly with her, but her responsiveness to his touches and words driving him mad.

"Now who's ogling?" came her quiet voice, a small giggle escaping as she caught him red-handed. He scooted over so the side of his arm touched hers, and leaned his body over so his face was decently level with hers.

"Caught me, Miss Granger. Now what are you going to do with me?" That blush reappeared at his suggestive tone, her face ducking as she looked at him through her eyelashes shyly. Lucius smiled down at her and with a small word, vanished the remains of their simple and late dinner. He moved to her front and with a ridiculous bow, held his elbow out to her.

"It's very late, Miss Granger and unfortunately tomorrow will come very early. Allow me to escort you to your room." Her eyes searched his face again before her small hand came slowly to intertwine with his offered elbow. They walked out together comfortably, him guiding her unsure steps down the hall that he had walked thousands of times.

"Here you are Miss Granger," he said as they stopped at the door to her room. "Have a restful night. If you need anything at all, I'm in the room across the hall." Her gaze flicked behind him in surprise, surveying the nearness of his sleeping quarters to her own. "And I mean anything." He hadn't meant to be so suggestive with that last sentence, but was pleased by her pretty little blush and shy ducking of her head.

The witch released his elbow and turned to open the door to her bedroom, but before she could open it, Lucius smoothly took her arm, spun her around a pressed a small kiss to her cheek, very close to the corner of her mouth.

"Dream well, Miss Granger. I know I will." He murmured to her. And just as fast as he grabbed her, he released her, spun on his heel and walked to enter his quarters, closing his door with a smirk on a very flustered witch.

 **/**

 **A little naughty, fluffy chapter for you! Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hola lovelies! There is a slight trigger warning within this chapter (I'll indicate with a bolded TW before the text). I'm doing my best to write a story that doesn't romanticize some darker plot points, but as those darker plot points come to light, I will always make sure y'all are aware before you read.**

Chapter 6

Hermione took a deep breath as she reached for the door handle of her temporary bedroom, searching for the acclaimed Gryffindor courage that she was supposed to possess.

Today was the day. The day to start to purge from the world the utter evil that blanketed the blasted mansion she was forced to live in for an indeterminate amount of time.

She could feel his presence now. It was a dark whisper, a light afterthought, a small nudge in the back of her head. Something you could hardly feel unless you knew what to look for, or unless you already knew what it felt like. Hermione shook her head, shooing away dark memories that needed to stay in the past.

 _No need to bring that up until it's time._

She wouldn't let him win. Not this time. Not again.

This time, he would lose. For good. And the world would finally be rid of his dark stain.

Hermione just needed to focus.

And how the hell was she supposed to focus with a certain devastatingly handsome blond aristocrat that was giving her absolute whiplash? One moment he was kind, thoughtful, charming. The next, he was scathing, sarcastic, mocking. Hermione could barely keep up with him and she hated him for it.

She was so good at keeping control of herself and situations she was placed in, but with him? That went all out the window.

And she had _kissed_ him. Like one of those fool girls she had seen him cast off when he had finished with them.

It had taken her hours to get to sleep. Most of her thoughts had centered on that blasted kiss, on that annoyingly pleasant conversation she had with him the night prior, on his almost kiss when he had wished her goodnight and how much she had wanted his mouth to meet hers again in that moment.

But now she was done being a dumb fool. Hermione prided herself on her intelligence, her logic. And it just wasn't logical that Lucius Malfoy would actually want her.

After all the hell he put her through during their working hours? Absolutely not. After all the drop dead gorgeous witches that threw themselves at him daily? Absolutely not.

Did it make sense that he would suddenly want her now that she was alone in a very secluded house with him? Absolutely. Not.

Hermione had deduced more soundly that it was probably all some scheme to humiliate her, embarrass her, ruin her. If he got to her, Malloy could shatter her career with a single word, making her out to be a witch that used sex to get where she wanted, that didn't deserve to be where she was.

And Hermione wouldn't let him get to her. He wouldn't win.

Squaring her shoulders and vowing to finally control herself and treat Malfoy how he should be (coldly, firmly, and at distance), Hermione opened the door and headed to the foyer.

/

Lucius stood in his fire lit foyer, waiting for the rest of the rag tag cleansing team to congregate. Why they had to start so bloody early was beyond him, but he had been raised to be the usual pretentious amount of entirely too early or just fashionably late. Today, he had chosen to the former degree of pretentious,

In the absence of distraction, his mind wandered to the prior evening. How incredibly—comfortable—he had been around Granger. How talking, in an amicable fashion, even an intellectual way, was even more thrilling for him than riling her. As much as he loved her fire, in whatever capacity she showed it to him, her normal countenance as just being herself was wonderful. Granger had calmed during the conversation, relaxing back into old habits of intellect and research and solving mysteries. Her warmth was addictive. A stark contrast to the ice that he had grown used to from Narcissa.

A soft click of the hallway door opening drew him away from his thoughts as Granger stepped in, her gaze pointedly not meeting his. Her face was stone, quite unlike what it had been just hours before.

Lucius almost snarled. He should have known. The little witch had probably spent the better part of the night analyzing why everything that had happened between them was wrong, why _he_ was wrong. He could almost see the conviction in her that she refused to see him in any other light than the Death Eater she had known.

Part of him faltered. But who was he to complain? He had been apart of her hell, made it become realized. He had been apart of her terror. He had been apart of her oppression. Guilt washed over him.

Lucius shook himself inwardly.

 _No._

He wouldn't pity himself. He did that for months after the end of the War and it was a frustrating waste of time.

He was Lucius Malfoy. And he would damn well act like it.

If the stubborn witch wanted to fight and struggle to make herself feel better for lowering herself to touch him, well then her little world was about to be shattered when he showed her how fucking wrong she was and how hard it would be for her to consciously remain blind to his new beginnings. He remembered how she had moved underneath his hands. Parts of her wanted him. Parts of her were willing to believe that he wasn't there to hurt her. Oh and he would make sure those parts overwhelmed her until she couldn't possibly ignore her attraction to him any longer.

Lucius Malfoy may have changed. But he was still a Malfoy.

The fireplace roared to life as the two Aurors tumbled out of the floo, cursing as they ungracefully tried to maintain their balance. The stubby one scanned the room, his eyes widening in anger when he found Lucius.

" **YOU** " he bellowed.

Lucius looked at him coolly. "Me."

"Who gave you the fucking RIGHT?!" The Irishman made as if to charge at him, but the tall one placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Seamus, calm down," said Thomas in a hushed tone, glaring at Lucius in a way that made it very clear that he was just as angry as his partner, albeit more reserved.

"I would assume you're speaking about your obliviation?" His voice was dry. "A mere protection for Miss Granger." Out of the corner of his eyes, Lucius noticed the witch raise her head to look at him.

"PROTECTION? We're AURORS for fuck's sake. That's our JOB." The small Irishman could get very loud, indeed. And Lucius was starting to get more than a little irritated with being spoken to in that fashion.

"I would watch your tone, Mr. Finnigan. Wouldn't want to insult the man that holds your department in the palm of his hand," he said coldly, the threat weaving through his words.

The Auror spluttered in indignation, but his partner spoke over him.

"We apologize if this comes as hostile, but we are more than equipped to keep a secret such as this." The tall Auror's voice was just as cold as his.

Lucius laughed. "You have no earthly idea the gravity of the situation. I won't have anything slipping out that could harm Miss Granger. Even your _wives_ can't know."

Seamus echoed his laughter hollowly. "As if you care about Hermione's welfare. Weren't you the one calling her Mudblood just a couple years—" He stopped as he found Lucius's wand pointed at his face.

"Be very _very_ careful, Mr. Finnigan." He said through gritted teeth, trying to get ahold of his temper. The Veela raged underneath, his alpha instincts roaring to quell the challenge of another male.

"ENOUGH."

The two men broke apart at the command, turning to view the thoroughly irate witch. Her eyes snapping, her magick blazing to his Veela sight, Hermione stalked toward them.

"As much as I appreciate this chivalrous display for my welfare, do me a favor and calm the hell down." She turned to Seamus who shuffled nervously under her stare, eyes downcast. "For Merlin's sake, Seamus, I can thoroughly take care of myself. Mr. Malfoy has done nothing to harm me and I doubt he will as he has freely opened his home to us to get rid of Voldemort for good. He might be a lot of things, but he's not thick."

Lucius smirked at the comment, his Veela smugly crowing in pleasure at the implied compliment.

"And you!" She rounded on him, but Lucius remained unmoved, returning her angry eyes with a cool look. "It was uncalled for to obliviate them. They are grown men and have kept secrets that are just as important if not more so than this one! Reverse it."

He looked down at the witch, raising his eyebrow. "Funny, Miss Granger. I didn't hear you complain last night." His double meaning was plain to her as her face flushed with embarrassment and rage. She took a step forward, quivering with anger, her chin lifted.

"Reverse it. Now."

He liked her fire being back. Lucius had begun to worry that it was going to be extinguished by the dreadful atmosphere of the Manor.

He regarded her for a long moment, pausing just long enough to remind her that he didn't take orders from just anyone. She held his gaze, that chin still raised. One of the things he appreciated about her was her unwillingness to back down from him. Impressive really.

He suddenly gave her a charming smile, delighted when she looked thoroughly taken aback. "Your wish is my command, Miss Granger." Then, with a small flourish of his wand, he reversed the spell on the two Aurors.

The witch blinked at him, obviously confused at his relatively quick compliance. Her eyebrows furrowed as she searched his face, probably looking for a hint of foul play. Finding none, her face softened, confusion still evident.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said quietly, those doe eyes sincere as she stared at him. There was a too-long beat of silence where they just stood there looking at each other. Then, Granger gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and turned back to the Aurors.

 _Maybe she didn't do a very good job of convincing herself after all_ , Lucius thought with a smirk.

"Everything okay? Nothing fuzzy or hard to remember?" The two Aurors shook their heads, seeming to not notice the moment the two had just shared, maybe too involved with making sure their memories were whole and unaffected. The stubby one looked sheepish.

"Sorry Hermione. I'll try to behave myself better." The witch gave a light laugh.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Are we ready to begin?"

The whole company jumped at the disembodied voice. The tiger patronus that was the Unspeakable stood at the doorway, watching them gravely. Or as gravely as a spelled animal could watch. The large head of the big cat swung to stare unblinkingly at Granger. Her back stiffened as if preparing for the worst.

"Miss Granger, we need to control the power that has woven itself through the Manor. I would suggest trying to contain the Dark Lord's essence to one room, that way when we start the actual cleansing process, it will be more immediate and more effective. We can't have parts of him slinking away as he is prone to doing. I would recommend sending it to the heart of the Manor as it would probably be easier to send it all to his central source of power."

Lucius watched Granger's face as she was given these instructions. She tried to control her expression, trying to remain stoic, in control. But the Veela in him was more sensitive at seeing through such things than she was talented at hiding. Flickers of fear flashed in her eyes.

Lucius wondered what it was that made the mighty Gryffindor Lioness so afraid. Was it the thought of fighting the Dark Lord? Was she afraid of the power the she would use? Was it something else entirely?

He had an urge to hold her again, let her lean on him. He wanted to comfort her, make her feel safe, protected. Lucius shoved these thoughts away. Currently the witch seemed to be actively trying to regret ever touching him, so there's no point in pining after heartfelt moments.

She took a breath. "Where is the heart of the Manor?"

The tiger's eyes met Lucius's and he swore loudly as he understood, making the others in the foyer jump once more. Apparently the Unspeakable was gracious (or cowardly) enough to allow him to tell her.

Lucius met the witch's startled but questioning gaze. He felt that flame of pity blaze in his chest. Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

"What is it?"

Lucius sighed and passed a hand through his hair.

"The Drawing Room, Miss Granger."

/

 _No. No. No. NO._

Hermione could have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all.

 _Of course it would be there. Of course._

She could feel the panic begin to set it, but fought it. She had fallen back into fear's grip too many times recently and she'd be damned if she allowed herself to be ensnared by its claws. Especially in front of so many people. Already she had been too vulnerable around Malfoy.

Hermione grit her teeth as she took in her body again, trying desperately to regain control and relax her muscles. She realized she had been staring at Malfoy the entire time and quickly averted her gaze.

Those gray eyes had almost looked in pain when he had to tell her. As if there was some deep sadness or regret.

 _Hermione, move on._

She wasn't going to analyze a fucking look from the wizard, it made it too easy to justify his changing in her head and right now she needed life to remain constant in some respect. So she'd lean on her dislike of him and his certain hatred for her for some sense of normalcy.

The Unspeakable's patronus regarded her quietly, as if waiting for her to regain her composure. Seamus and Dean just watched her, pity in their faces, but knowing better than to speak. Hermione silently thanked them for that. Sometimes, when her friends got it right, they got it right.

She took a couple deep breaths through her nose and squared her shoulders. She was here to do a job, and she would do it.

Raising her chin, she spoke. "I'm ready."

The tiger nodded its head. "Good. I'm worried that this might require a stronger amount of power than you've been able to tap into. Mister Malfoy, will you assist?"

 _Fuck._

Hermione opened her mouth to protest. She didn't want him to touch her again, because she was so afraid she'd like it.

"We need you to live, Miss Granger. And since we don't know much about this power except its pattern of consuming the carriers, I would feel much better if some of that power was borrowed from Mister Malfoy. He's one of the few that's strong enough for you to take from."

Honestly this whole feeling as if everyone was reading her mind was getting tiresome.

Hermione looked at Malfoy through her lashes curiously, reminded of how prevalent and how powerful his family had been in the history of the wizarding world. What made him this way? What was special about him that made him able to give his power to her?

The patronus looked at Malfoy. "Are you willing to let her take from you again?" She could feel the intensity of the wizard's stare so much so that she raised her eyes to meet his and was met with an unreadable expression. He gave a small nod.

"Whatever she needs," he said lowly, sincerely.

Well she damn sure wasn't prepared for that response.

The tiger nodded. "Then we may begin. Miss Granger. Please try to analyze yourself and your body as you work. Remember: we want you to live."

"Hi, yes," came the voice of Seamus. They all turned to look at the Auror. "What exactly are we supposed to do? Even yesterday we just stood around while she...well...did whatever she did." That was a good question. Shacklebolt really wouldn't have sent two of the better Aurors to the Manor just as protection against Malfoy. He wouldn't have appointed him as Manager of Affairs if he didn't trust the ex-Death Eater to some extent.

"You're here in case the Dark Lord's followers try to stop us, or if the Dark Lord tries himself. We don't know how hard he will try to hold on, and we may need more than just Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy." That explanation seemed to satisfy the two men, but only served to spur on Hermione's anxiety.

How would he hold on? She had only cleansed an area once before and that was relatively simple, just a spread of her magick and the darkness was gone. But that was just to cleanse Hogwarts after the battle (violent magical deaths could leave harsh signatures that could be very detrimental to future students) and the School's own magic had assisted.

Voldemort was something different entirely, though. His power was parasitic, clinging, grasping, whereas the magic left from a death just hung in the atmosphere, potentially leaving room for darkness. His darkness was absolute. He was always trying to come back, always so close to life. Hermione wouldn't put it past him for his magic to be just as hungry for life and power as its old master.

Her whole projection of this taking a couple hours and then being rid of him was hopelessly shattered into a million pieces. Of course it couldn't be that easy.

Taking another deep breath, she met Malfoy's eyes once more and he nodded to her in response. Suddenly she was grateful for his astounding perception because she found it difficult to speak in the moment. She wasn't ready to begin, but they were going to begin anyway.

It was time to tap into the magick again. It was always a jittery excited feeling that coupled her reaching for the power. She was always afraid it would be too much this time, but the feeling of that power coursing through her body was euphoric.

Hermione closed her eyes, taking into account her body, calming her heart, relaxing her brain. She, once again, lifted her arms so that her palms were parallel to the floor, as if inviting the earth to rise up to meet her. She felt her own natural magic search and trickle from her palms to the ground. The minute her magic touched the floor, she was consumed.

The earth magick hummed in her ears, her pulse beginning a rhythm like that of a rowing team's drum, guiding her, pushing her. Hermione felt invincible, powerful, beautiful. Oh how she loved how it felt to be wrapped up in the marvelous magick that just narrowly reigned in the chaos of too much power. Every time she tapped it, her fear shrank more and her eagerness to feel that power grew.

Hermione opened her eyes and once again met the mercurial gaze of the master of the Manor. Her lower stomach clenched deliciously, as her magick stroked her insides. Suddenly all she wanted to do was return to that position of him pressing her up again the wall, her hips rolling against his as he consumed her mouth.

The man raised his eyebrow at her, that sinful smirk blooming on his face, as if he knew her every thought. She felt desire pool at the bottom of her abdomen, the muscles in her pelvic floor squeezing unconsciously. All she saw was him. All she wanted was him.

 _Touch me_ , came a voice in her head. A breathy, feminine voice that she couldn't recognize. She felt her body coil in excitement at the thought of the skin on skin contact.

 _Have some self-control, you stupid girl._

The logical voice of Hermione Granger's brain screamed shrilly in her head. She could almost hear the magick groan at the halting of her desire as she shook herself from her reverie.

Hermione clenched her teeth and lifted her chin, trying to regain her composure and return to the coldness with which she wanted to treat the Senior Malfoy. But that damned smirk was about to make her lose her mind. Did he know? How could he know?

Never mind that now. There was a job to do.

Hermione pushed her sleeves back and extended her wrist to the blond wizard, offering her skin to his, thinking he'd touch her in the same way he did last time. She watched his face intently, almost hoping to see a look of disgust at the thought of having to touch her. That almost hope was dashed to pieces as he held her gaze completely, watching for any sign of distress or unwillingness, and simply took her hand.

Hermione stared dumbly at his hand enveloping hers. She was holding Lucius Malfoy's hand. She was holding Lucius fucking Malfoy's hand.

 _Nope. No. We're not analyzing this. There's a job to do. You can figure out what the hell is going on some other time._

This time, her siphoning his magic wasn't immediate. Maybe it was because she wasn't hanging to life by a thread this time, but her magick didn't automatically take from him. She had to search for it. So Hermione closed her eyes to concentrate, letting her magick wrap down her hand to meet him—

And then everything was perfect again.

She felt her blood sing as her magick intertwined with his. It felt like every hair on her body stood up as if her body was surging with electricity. She felt powerful, but no longer borderline chaotically powerful. With Malfoy's magic wrapping itself around her she felt— _whole_. His was the gate that held in the power. His was the funnel that concentrated it, centered it.

Gone was the trepidation of fighting the beast that had locked itself into the very bones of the Manor. She could do this. She could end him. And she would.

"Remember, Miss Granger. Don't do too much. Or you might take too much from Mister Malfoy," came the otherworldly voice of the Unspeakable, ripping Hermione from her euphoria.

Almost panicked, her eyes flew open to look at Malfoy, praying to the gods that she hadn't hurt him. But his eyes were bright as he held her hand, looking down at her. His jaw was tight, showing a bit of the strain to give his magic in this way, but there was no hint of reluctance. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, and she was dazzled.

Merlin, he was so handsome. All she wanted to do was be pulled into his powerfully broad chest and be held there by him. His hand holding hers was a cruel tease of how she really wanted him to touch her.

 _Focus, Hermione. Focus._

She slowly crouched down, her free hand splaying on the floor. She looked up to meet the wizard's gaze once more to make sure he was alright, but he still held onto her outstretched hand diligently, watching her intently. Her lower stomach muscles clenched again as Hermione recognized how this angle must look. And then all she could think about was her on her knees, unbuttoning his trousers, her hands searching for what lay underneath.

"Miss Granger," came his quiet, but tense murmur. "I'm flattered, but really, another time might be in your best interest." Her eyes widened in panic. Of course their magical connection could potentially connect their minds. She quickly shoved up her mental walls and look down at her hand that was on the ground.

Hermione let her (their) magick flow from her fingertips and wind its way around the inner workings of the Manor. Almost immediately, she found him.

She fought the urge to recoil as her magick brushed against whatever essence of his lurked within the Manor. Bile rose in her throat as she felt the sick, twisted bit that was left of Lord Voldemort.

"OW," she cried out unconsciously. It felt like a knife had been shoved in between her eyes. Hermione shuddered as another pang hit her. The dark slime that was his aftertaste pervaded her system. It was him! He was fighting back!

He really was more alive than they thought.

Hermione cried out again as he struck her once more. Reacting with no control, only anger, like a cornered dog, she blasted out a swipe of magick, slinging that bit of him in the direction of the Drawing Room. She felt him slip from her as he was thrown. Carefully, her magick followed, to make sure he really did get thrown into that specific room.

Muttering indecipherable words in a language she didn't even know she knew, Hermione warded the room. Somehow she knew that the wards would hold whatever needed to be trapped within the confines of the space, regardless of its power.

Sometimes it frightened her how alive the magick felt. How autonomous it was.

And then. All was dark.

/

Lucius couldn't see a damn thing. It felt like someone had just taken his entire ability to see.

But he could still feel Granger's small, warm hand in his. He could still feel her power stroking him, coaxing out his magic, intertwining with him in the most intimate way he had ever known.

So he wasn't dead. He wasn't unconscious.

He just couldn't fucking see.

And by the startled masculine yells and Granger's light gasp, neither could his company.

High pitched laughter echoed from the walls, seeming to fill the air with the shrill vibrations. It made his blood run cold.

Granger's hand clutched at his, her fear evident. With how they were connected, it was almost as if he could feel everything she felt. Her emotions brushed right outside his mind, her thoughts rippling underneath her self-constructed barriers. Sheer panic flitted from her to him. He could hear her ragged breaths, her fear making her lose concentration. Her magick started to draw more from him, to an extent that worried him about how much he could take before she took too much.

Lucius knelt beside her, sliding his free arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest, and bringing their intertwined hands close to her chest, holding her, protecting her.

"Calm, Miss Granger. No one will hurt you. Not even him," he murmured into her ear.

The laughter grew louder, heavier in the air, like it was weighing them all down. The memories that were brought up from that sound made Lucius's stomach turn. He tried to keep chanting in his brain that that monster wasn't alive, that this was just his magic, nothing more.

"So the mudblood really was something special after all?" The high pitched voice echoed loudly in his mind. An odd sensation as Lucius realized that it wasn't his ears that picked up the noise. Granger went rigid in his arms. Apparently this was an all call for everyone present.

The voice of the Dark Lord chuckled. "I should have known. The boy could never have done what he did alone. I should have killed you when I had the chance. No matter. All in due time."

Lucius grit his teeth as rage boiled within him. He wouldn't touch her. That monster would do no more harm in this world. Especially not in his fucking house.

"Your words are useless here, you spineless sack of shit," he spoke out loud, harshly. "Potter won and you were quite disappointingly easily defeated." Lucius grunted as a stabbing pain struck him between the eyes. It felt like the claws of the Dark Lord were trying to rip through his mental barriers. But his Veela has always succeeded in keeping the wizard at bay. During his time spent as a Death Eater, he had given up some of his thoughts, to keep Voldemort satisfied and self confident in his own supreme power, but Lucius was no one's bitch. Even at his lowest, he source of pride was his refusal to completely bow to the Dark Lord's whims.

"Ah Lucius. My ever faithful servant," The high pitched voice was mocking, "Another I should have killed a long time ago. You were almost as useless as your little coward of a son and whore of a wife." Lucius clenched his teeth even harder, controlling the raging beast that threatened to break lose. His focus was Granger, and giving her enough power to keep going. He could distantly feel her drawing from him, and with his magic melded with hers, he could feel her softly surround Voldemort's magic. But then the Dark Lord's focus was on her again she stopped, trying to not draw attention to herself as no one knew how powerful this shadow of the man was.

 **(TW - skip to the next bolded section if this might be too much to read)**

"Tell me, mudblood, do you remember our time together?" Granger went rigid again, her entire body trembling.

Lucius heard a frantic whisper "oh gods, no"

A peal of laughter echoed in their minds. "I certainly do. Malfoy, you would not believe a mudblood to be gifted with such a body. And one so responsive." Hermione lurched in Lucius armed, her trembling worsening.

"Tell me, mudblood. Do you think about me often? The way I made your body feel? Does your little mudblood cunt weep when you play with yourself when you think of it like it did for me? Does your body tremble, crying out for my co—"

 **(TW - All Clear)**

"Shut UP!" Hermione roared, her magick exploding from her body, a torrent of flame-like power that engulfed the entire space. Its roar stole every one of Lucius's senses. He couldn't see for the bright light, the loud hum of her power deafening him, he couldn't even feel the witch in his arms anymore.

There was nothing save for her magick and her rage.

It was breathtaking.

It was terrifying.

And then it was over.

Silence ensued. A deafening silence that hung heavily in the air.

Lucius's eyes adjusted rather quickly and he took stock of the room. Both Aurors were crouched down to the ground, wide eyed, mouths gaping. The Unspeakable's patronus was nowhere to be found, perhaps driven out by the Dark Lord's power or even Granger's.

And the witch was in his arms. Unconscious. Tear streaks coating her beautiful face.

 **/**

 **Sorry for the delayed update, lovelies! Life gets crazy and I had to wait for this chapter to wring itself out of my brain. I hope you are all enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it!**

 **Please let me know what you think! I love reading your reviews. Y'all are so incredibly sweet and supportive and I appreciate all of you so much!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione woke again to the merry crackling of a hearth fire. Her eyelids fluttering open, she realized she hadn't been brought to her temporary bedroom, but was instead on a very comfortable, plush, ornate sofa in the middle of what had to be the Malfoy library.

 _Holy. Shit._

It was like the library of legends. Massive floor to ceiling, beautifully carved, wooden bookcases, filled with books upon books upon books. It put every personal library Hermione had ever seen or even thought of having to shame. She sat up slowly and looked around, wide-eyed.

There was a second fucking story! An ornate, cast iron railing lined the top walkway, where bookshelves lined the walls, separated by huge windows, where light tumbled through, bathing the book haven in a wash of warm, late afternoon light.

Hermione blinked. She must have been asleep for a long time again.

She jumped when she heard Malfoy's voice from behind her.

"How do you feel Miss Granger?" She turned quickly, her eyes meeting his gaze as he sat in another stupidly expensive looking armoire that was close to the massive fireplace behind her. A book sat in his lap.

Had he been here the whole time reading again?

His face was guarded, his eyes taking in her face, searching for something.

Hermione took stock. No headache like last time. All her limbs seemed to be working fine. Nothing hurt or felt out of order. She was just overwhelmingly exhausted. Tired to her very bones.

"I think I'm alright. Are you? I didn't take too much did I?" His eyes softened.

"I'm just fine Miss Granger. Nothing that a little rest can't restore." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Even if she was hellbent on trying to hate the man or at least keep him at a distance, he had voluntarily given her his magic, and she didn't want that to blow up in his face when it felt like he did it genuinely. Plus, she'd rather be the only one hurt by the ancient power, regardless of her very mixed personal feelings toward him.

"Where are the others?" She asked, turning her body toward the wizard as the angle of her neck in her attempt to look at him was a tad uncomfortable.

"At their respective homes. We all agreed that you needed rest. We've decided to wait two days time before we try to begin again."

Hermione nodded silently, drawing her knees up to her chest. Two days was a long time to just sit tight at the Manor, but she wasn't exactly adamant they start again as soon as possible. The thought of meeting Voldemort's magic again made her skin crawl. Lucius was right (even though she'd never say that out loud). She needed to rest. Those two days were probably necessary.

"Miss Granger." Malfoy's voice was soft. She looked up at him, her chin resting on her knees. That same unreadable look was on his face, his eyes boring into her very soul. That was one thing about those Malfoy eyes: you never questioned if you were truly seen with them. He seemed to be extra gentle toward her, even more so than the first time she had awakened in his presence after a bout with the power the simmered within her.

"Do you remember today?" Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the question.

"Of course I do. We were trying to seal off Voldemort's power into one area and—" her voice choked off as the memories bombarded her mind. The laughter. His words. Her rage.

Her heart started to race and her breath became labored. Her hands went up to grip her forehead, trying to squeeze out the terrified thoughts that were raging inside of her. Tears welled up in her screwed shut eyes.

 _They knew._

 _He knew._

She was too enveloped in her own panic to recognize the feeling of a weight shift as someone sat down near her. Large and gentle hands wrapped around her, pulling her into Malfoy's lap. And he cradled her there.

She didn't recoil. She wanted to be held by him. Wanted the physical contact, the comfort. Being encircled by his strong arms made her feel the safest she had felt in a long time. It was laughably absurd: her craving safety from one of the most unsafe people she had ever come into contact with. But with him, everything felt right. Everything fit.

It can't feel right. This wasn't right.

She needed to get away.

She didn't want to get away.

She was so tired.

It was too much.

It was overwhelming.

She started to cry. That was the only thing she could do because everything else was so out of control. Her arms wrapped around Malfoy's neck instinctively as she buried her face in his chest. Sobs wracked her body.

She was too overwhelmed to even care that he saw her tears. Too ashamed by the thought of him knowing her deepest, blackest secret to feel shame about crying..

"I'm so sorry, Miss Granger," he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion, his arms tightening their grip on her. "I took the memories from the Aurors and you can freely take mine should you decide to."

Merlin, why did he have to be so damn nice? Why did he have to say the absolute perfect thing to say in that moment? Why wasn't he hateable right now?

His hands ran up and down her back, brushed through her hair gently, offering sweet and comforting touches.

Gods he even was perfect at dealing with a over emotional witch.

After some time, her tears subsided because no one can cry forever.

She was absolutely spent and so comfortable in his arms that she didn't want to move. She felt like she could stay there forever.

But Hermione untangled her arms from around his neck, lifting her head so that she could wipe her face on the back of her hands. With a flourish, Malfoy handed her a white handkerchief with a silver snake embroidered into an M shape. Hermione snorted as she took it, using it to clean her face a little better than what a hand could do.

"Something funny, Miss Granger?" The wizard said softly, gentle amusement tinging his words.

"Oh it's nothing besides you being the biggest cliche of all time," Hermione responded lightly as she held the dirty handkerchief in her hands. Her voice sounded stuffy and thick, fresh off a good cry.

The man chuckled, his laugh rumbling in his chest, and plucked the cloth from her fingers, vanishing it in an instant.

"Good thing I'm a cliche then. That way you can thoroughly predict all my actions," he said dryly.

Hermione snorted. "Mister Malfoy, you are the hardest man to even try to guess at what you're about to do." She kept her face down, hidden by her hair, not wanting to show Malfoy the after effects of crying. One of his hands still moved up and down her back, supporting her seated position but still offering a small touch of comfort, the other had fallen casually to rest on her thigh.

"Lucius."

She raised her head to blink at him, thoughts of her reddened crying face gone. "What?"

"Call me Lucius. I think we've more than enough breached the first name usage barrier." His tone was still light, but his silver eyes were intensely watching her face, waiting for her reaction.

What the hell. It's not like the whole situation was incredibly absurd anyway. What could calling him by his given name hurt at this point?

"Alright... Lucius." It was almost like she expected his name to be poisonous but, in fact, it tasted good on her tongue, rolled off it in a familiar way. His eyes flashed with what looked like triumph when she said it aloud.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Oh, well damn, she hadn't expected him to return the favor. On his lips, her name sounded sensual, exotic, sinful. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, marveling at the sound it made when it was speaking her name. How the bloody hell did he do that?

Lucius's hand moved up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch, sighing in contentment. Everything about him made her feel safe, protected, warm. It didn't make sense, it went against everything she believed as a strong and independent witch, everything she believed in her desire to dislike the wizard, but she was too tired to make sense of anything right now. All she knew is she liked it when Lucius Malfoy held her, when he touched her, and for some reason she trusted him enough to lean on him. Something in her told her she could. But again, she was too tired to delve into that vague emotion.

His hand moved down to lift her chin, his thumb swiping over her bottom lip. Hermione opened her eyes to see Lucius looking back at her, molten silver displaying heat that made her heart race. And in the good way.

"Gods, little lioness," the man gave a pained whisper, letting his head fall back to rest of the backboard of the sofa, showing off his masculine neck and collarbone in a particularly attractive way. "You're going to ruin me."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Wha—? How could I—? I'm sorry I don't—." She went silent when his lifted his head, that liquid mercury gaze making heat flair in her belly. When he looked at her like that, it felt like she was the only witch in the world.

Her body hummed and all she wanted was him again. She shifted her hips, trying to deal with the heat that had spread downward.

Lucius hissed, his eyelids fluttering. The hand that rested on her thigh rose up to wrap around the back of her neck, his thumb on the side of her jawline, as he turned her head to look at him face to face.

"Careful, witch." He voice was rough, but not harsh.

Hermione flushed, realizing what she had done.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean— I didn't know—" she made to move off of his lap, but he caught her wrist. Firmly enough to indicate that she should stay, gentle enough that she could easily break free should she want to. Hermione went still.

He brought her wrist up to his mouth and gently pressed his lips against her pulse point. She gasped at the contact, suddenly wonderfully sensitive to touch. Something about it was so utterly lovely but so incredibly erotic.

Lucius smirked at her as he lifted his head, but he released her wrist and let it drop back to her lap. He tucked a rampant curl behind her ear and drew his long finger along her jawline to rest under her chin, meeting her wide eyed stare with a soft expression.

"You've had a long day Hermione," he said softly. "I wanted to show you something. Maybe make it a little better than the shitty start."

Hermione gave a surprised laugh at his coarseness. But with a nod, she gently rose up to stand above him. He stood to meet her and she realized that she hadn't exactly stepped back and now suddenly they were chest to chest.

Well, chest to upper abdomen as the man dwarfed her considerably.

He smiled kindly down at her and gave a light chuckle as she shied away quickly, backing up three panicked steps. Why all of a sudden she felt shy and antsy at being near him when she was literally just sitting in his lap, she didn't know. But now she was all nerves and blushes.

 _Get a grip, Hermione. You're a grown ass woman, not a 12 year old school girl!_

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her self-respect. "What is it you wanted to show me?" She looked at the wizard and her breath caught in her throat.

The blond looked ethereal standing in the golden glow of the sun rays that passed through the windows to the library. The light made his loose, long, white hair shine. He was again dressed in his white button down and exquisitely tailored slacks, but he was much more casual, his sleeves rolled up to the forearm and three buttons (Hermione counted) undone. On display was the beginning of his chest, the sunlight causing his white blond chest hair to gleam against the smooth skin. Honestly, it just wasn't fair that this man was this attractive.

He smiled at her. A genuine smile. The way the planes of his usually stoic face lifted to reveal the white pearlescent teeth was so endearing, so charming, Hermione wondered why he opted for his small smiles and smirks. If he wanted to get in a witch's knickers, all he had to do was flash one of those and they'd be his for the taking.

Lucius extended his right arm, motioning largely to the whole room.

"This."

/

She was breathtaking in the sunlight, the warm glow dancing across her skin pleasantly. The gold was brought out in her hair, but especially those intelligent eyes, those that looked at him confused.

Hermione was quite cute when she furrowed that brow, causing her lightly freckled nose to wrinkle just slightly.

Lucius chuckled at her confusion, almost giddy with excitement for what he was about to give her.

"The Malfoy library has been compiled over hundreds of years. There's first editions here, books that were burned and never reprinted, treasures from the magical literary world. The information stored here is worth more than anything else I own. I have been asked to donate or release them by Hogwarts, by wizarding archives, but, selfishly, I don't think I can part with them." As he spoke, the witch turned slowly to take in the room, her wild honeyed curls swishing behind her. Every movement was careful, awestruck at what she was witnessing. Lucius paused to let her have a moment and began again when she had turned back to him.

"And you will have unlimited access to it."

She gaped at him, not comprehending. "W-What?" Her eyes were wide.

"From this time on, count this as your personal library, open to you at any time. Even when this ordeal is finished, you may come whenever you please. The Floo has been connected to your office and it is easily shut off should you feel uncomfortable having it directly open to here at all hours of the day."

"Mr. M— Lucius— I— I don't—," She stuttered at him breathily.

"It's the least I could do after this. It's a small token of my thanks, but one that I hope you could come to—" the breath knocked out of him as the small witch barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, almost knocking him over in the process.

Hermione buried her face in the crook of his neck, on her tiptoes to reach to embrace him in this way.

"You mean it?" She said quietly, almost fearfully, like he might take it back.

Lucius smiled as his arms snaked around her waist, pressing her tightly to himself in a warm embrace.

"Yes, Hermione." He murmured into her ear.

He felt her body shiver and heard the quiet intake of breath. The Veela purred underneath his skin, content at first with simply holding the witch, but suddenly starting to grumble, wanting desperately to take her and mark her as his.

Lucius closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths through his nose, wanting to contain the beast and maintain his composure. On the couch, he had almost kissed her again, but quickly bit back the urge. She had been through a lot today and now that he had the impression that that monster had touched her, he didn't want to spook her or even possibly add to her distress.

But everything about the girl fit. Perfectly.

Whenever he held her, his body sang in contentment. The conversation last night in the kitchen was the type of comfortable like that of talking to an old friend. Having her walk around his house barefoot drove him crazy. Her presence was exhilarating. He couldn't get enough of her, like she was 500 year old Odgen's and he an alcoholic.

Hermione drew back, but still kept her arms resting on his shoulders, his arms still wrapped around her waist, and looked up at him, a smile gleaming at her lips. Lucius inhaled sharply. He would do anything to keep that smile on her face forever. Fuck all this nonsense about him just wanting to bed her. This witch could make him grovel at his feet for her and he would do so willingly, if it meant that she would be his.

Her eyes sparkling, she spoke, quite breathlessly. "Thank you, Mister—Lucius. I don't know how I could ever repay—"

"A gift affords no repayment, Hermione. That's the whole point of it being a gift," Lucius interrupted lightly, a small smile pulling his lips.

"But I— You— why?" Suddenly her eyebrows furrowed in that irritating way that meant she was thinking to hard. The girl tugged away from his arms, which he released her from the minute she put any resistance up. Her hands went into her hair, twisting it around her fingers, the usual sign her brain and nerves were working too hard. She went still, her hands dropping, and just looked at him. Square in the face.

"You hate me."

Lucius's eyebrows rose, thoroughly taken aback. Had he not been clear enough? Was this the thing she held onto in order to convince herself that her desire for him was wrong? "And what, pray tell, makes you think that, Hermione?" His voice was flat, his face now completely blank.

The girl averted her eyes, a blush blossoming over her nose and cheeks. Her mouth opened and moved, as if trying to work out what she wanted to say, but no sound came. She bit her lip. But then with a huff, she raised her eyes to meet his, defiantly.

"We won't bring up the past. That's over and done with. But you have made my life a living hell at work." Hermione's hands curled into fists and rested on her hips. "You're the sodding Manager of Affairs and you're overly involved in my department. Every new case you search through lwith a fine toothed comb, waiting for something to point out as incorrect. Your questionings during case readings are an _utter_ waste of time and only serve to humiliate me! You randomly choose whether or not to vote for or against anything that I do. This last piece of legislation for the protection of werewolves was a fucking _nightmare_!"

She had worked herself up into a nice state, chest heaving with her angry breaths, eyes flashing.

There she was.

The lioness.

His lioness.

 _Go slowly, Lucius._

He moved towards her, but the witch stood her ground, glaring at him.

"Hermione, I do say you may be looking a _tad_ too closely into these questionings. Nothing I have done was for the intent of—how did you put it the other day?—pissing you off." Her blush deepened, but her eyes flashed angrily again. The girl's chin raised in order to keep her eyes leveled with his as he drew closer, no ounce of fear on her face.

"Then why, _pray tell_ , do you make my job ten thousand times harder than it needs to be?" Her voice was acid.

"Because, Hermione," he practically purred her name, loving her reaction to the sound dripping from his lips. "It needed to be."

Her eyebrows knit together. "Oh for Merlin's sake, enough with this stupid mysterious cryptic speak," she cried, utterly exasperated. Lucius smirked as he continued to move toward her, narrowing the space between them as he allowed the Veela to take over just enough to corner her. His Veela was getting stronger and harder to control each day he was around her and letting it out for a couple moments should help alleviate some pressure. She hadn't realized that her back was to a rather large shelf.

"Tell me, Hermione. How does it feel when you finally get my yes? When one of your atrociously long bills finally passes? Is it _euphoric_?" Her eyes had dilated. _Good_. "Tell me, how does it feel when you have full command of the Wisengamot? When you're on the floor and everyone's eyes on you, completely captivated? How does it feel to fight for what you believe in? And to eventually win?"

"But you—but some—" She spluttered, backing up from him as her brain started the reel.

"Hermione. Every single bill that you have drafted has passed. Some took longer, yes. But they all have."

"But the werewolf—"

"Was incomplete. This is a radical bill and the Wizengamot will be just as heinous to handle as they were with the House Elves. But it _can_ pass as long as some loose ends are tied."

"But you said—"

"I was mistaken. I thought it was complete and it wasn't. I read it over again the other day and saw a blatant issue with how we dole out punishments toward those werewolves that choose to remain wild and unhindered."

Her back hit the ledge of the reading table connected to the bookcase, her hands automatically flying backward to grasp the edge as if making sure it really was a barrier. Her eyes were wide and Lucius could practically see her thoughts trying to make sense of what was happening. She looked up at him, her teeth worrying that bottom lip again.

"You read it?"

"The whole sodding thing. I read them all. Every single bloody page. Every single time."

And suddenly the little witch of light and warmth had barreled into him again, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers intertwining in his hair, and her sweet little mouth crashing onto his.

/

Hermione didn't know what she was doing. There was no control. Only joy. And confusion. And desire.

And heat.

Sweet Merlin, she was so _hot_.

Her fingers looped in the silky white blond Malfoy hair as she pushed his head down to meet her lips. He was surprised at first, but soon met her passion with his own fire. His hands reached up, tangling in her curls, cupping her cheeks, brushing her face, gently and lovingly.

But his mouth. Gods his mouth. How did someone learn how to kiss like this?

His lips were firm, unyielding, taking from her every kiss, making them his. His teeth dragged across her bottom lip, bringing it into his mouth in a gentle suckle, making her gasp at the sensation. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped through, exploring her, drawing her out to him, riling her so she matched his energy, rising to the challenge. Hermione kissed him back just as hard, never one to back down, but also the magick within her was pulsing deliciously, spurring her on. Her heart thrummed in her ears, her body sang as she melted into his arms.

Lucius walked her backwards, his mouth never leaving hers as he consumed her, dominated her, overwhelmed her. Everything about how he kissed made her breathless. He would switch from deep passion to light loveliness, keeping her on her toes, unable to form coherent thought. He was in full control of everything, and Hermione leaned into it, loving every second of giving herself to him.

Her back hit the bookcase again. Lucius's hands brushed down her sides, leaving feather light touches down her arms, teasing her as her body craved more contact. His large hands yet again grabbed her ass firmly and, after giving it a tight squeeze and pressing a self-satisfied smirk into her mouth at her shudder at the touch, the wizard lifted her up onto the reading shelf so that her face was now level with his. Her knees automatically spread to rest outside of his hips, her arms pulling him closer as they kissed.

Lucius wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, deliciously in control as he moved her head to stretch upwards to the side as he released her mouth to plant light, sensual kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Hermione couldn't help but give out light gasps and small sounds as every touch of his lips to her body sent another flare of heat right to her core. The wizard ran his free hand along the outside of her thigh, grabbing her delicately under her knee to pull her even closer to him. When the apex of thighs met his, Hermione moaned at the friction, Lucius's name falling from her lips.

The man went still. He slowly rose up to meet her face to face. Hermione's eyes widened, trying to control her breathing, almost fearful that she had done something wrong. Was she bad at this? Did she do something that offended him? Did he finally remember that he hated her?

Lucius's eyes were the lightest she had ever seen them, almost white with a silver sheen. He took long, deep breaths as his eyes bore into her very soul. His hands had gone to her waist, gently holding her hips, his thumbs massaging the junction between her waist and legs, just hard enough of a touch to make Hermione feel like she was coming undone, but his eyes held her steady, even though she felt like just closing her eyes and _feeling_.

"Say it again."

His voice was sin. Richer and deeper than she had ever heard it before. Hermione almost moaned at the pulse that it sent through her.

"W—What?" She responded breathlessly, confused. His face drew close to hers, his eyes almost gleaming.

"My name witch. Say it again."

She complied immediately, shivering as his command did wicked things to her, his name passing through her swollen mouth, perhaps even more breathlessly this time. Lucius's eyes had dropped to her mouth as she spoke, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb swiping across her lower lip.

He smirked. The delicious, sensual smirk that made Hermione's toes curl. "Good girl."

She moaned, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as she felt another pulse in reaction to his praise. His hand gripped her hip harder and then suddenly she was airborne again. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around the man's waist, arms clinging to his neck.

Lucius carried her back to the sofa, settling down so that she was straddling him comfortably, her hips meeting his in a way that made her whole body sing. She could feel him underneath her, pressing against her in a way that made her feel almost triumphant in the knowledge that he was just as turned on as her.

She wasn't used to having to look down at him, but quite liked the angle as he had to incline his head to meet her eyes. They sat there for a quiet moment, taking each other in, eyes bright with lust, chests moving with ragged breath. Her hands still played in his hair, halfway distracted as she reveled in her ability to stroke through the strands without being caught in a knot like what happened every time her hands went in her hair. Her nails massaged his scalp, causing a deep rumble to come from his chest as his eyes flickered. And then he was on her again.

Hermione clung to him, holding on for dear life as he ravaged her mouth. His kiss was rougher this time, full of the frenzied passion that she could feel all the way down to her toes. Every time his lips moved against her, every time he stopped to trailed them along her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, her lower belly would clench deliciously and small sounds would escape her mouth.

Kissing shouldn't feel this good.

But with Lucius, everything felt good, incredible even.

Hermione was on fire. She needed more, but she couldn't figure out what. Instinctively, her hips rolled, brushing against Lucius in a way that made her cry out as the rough fabric of her jeans dragged across her most sensitive area. A low growl came from Lucius. They broke apart, breathing heavily.

He held her gaze as his hands slowly, agonizingly slowly, rose up to her hips. Still maintaining eye contact, a devilish smile on his lips, he thrust his pelvis upwards, pulling hers downwards, and rolled into her. Hermione threw her head back as she cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation as pleasure rocked through her body.

Her back bowed over as she moved to rest her forehead on Lucius's shoulder, trembling, completely overwhelmed by how her body felt. The wizard gave a small laugh and murmured into her ear, sending shivers down her body as his breath caressed her ear and neck.

"Feel good, witch?" His voice. _Gods his voice._ That deep voice sent another flare of heat to her center and Hermione gasped as she unconsciously rolled her hips, eliciting a quiet " _fuck"_ from Lucius.

 _Oh._

Oh she could listen to him forever.

And she was the one making him sound like that.

Hermione bit her lip as she rolled her hips again.

Lucius gave a low grunt and and then thrust up against her again, hands guiding her hips. Hermione's whole body shuddered and she undulated onto him, seeking that wonderful friction that made her thrum.

His mouth found hers again as they continued their sensual movement. One of his hands trailed along the hem of her shirt, slowly finding its way under the cloth. He held onto her waist, thumb stroking her stomach. Hermione's body started to tremble, overcome by his touch. His hand moved upwards slowly, until he gently brushed the underside of her left breast. Suddenly her brain started to wake, but, almost as he could read her mind, he delicately bit her bottom lip and she was lost again.

His hand moved to cup her breast over her bra, delicately molding it. Hermione started to become louder as every sensation was coming to a head. The friction against the apex of her thighs, he wonderful mouth against hers, his hand doing fantastic things to her body. Her nipples hardened against his ministrations and Lucius gave the one under his hand a light squeeze.

Hermione gasped and her head fell backwards. Lucius sat up to follow her, mouth licking and sucking at her collarbone, causing her toes to curl.

Her hips still moved against his, seemingly of their own accord, the rough material hitting her in a way that made Hermione want to scream. The steady pace of their hips, his hand moving back and forth between each breast, his mouth suckling her and caressing her, it was all starting to build up. She could feel a sense almost like a coil start low in her belly.

Oh it felt _good_.

The coil started to tighten.

She had never felt anything like this.

Except she had.

Terror washed over her like a bucket of cold water and she went still, her eyes widening in horror, her body trembling for some other reason.

Sensing her change, Lucius immediately stopped and raised his head to look at her questioningly.

Hermione wrenched herself from his arms and his lap, standing over him as she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't— I don't—" she gave a quiet sob and raced from the beautiful library and straight to her bedroom.

 **/**

 **Ah, the good ole cliffhanger. Glad things are finally starting to heat up a little more ;) We'll see where they end up.**

 **Kinda proud this chapter didn't take as long for me to get out to y'all. Let me know what you think of it! I absolutely love hearing from y'all! Peace and Love 3**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, lovelies! Just letting you know, there is a very strong trigger warning with this chapter, so if it makes you uncomfortable in anyway, please take care of yourself and don't keep reading. I've done my best to write this in a way that doesn't exploit the trauma, but potentially brings to attention a topic worth discussing. I'll make sure to note within the text when it might be time for you to skip it. Please feel free to send me a DM if you want to talk about anything.**

Chapter 8

Lucius sat at the sofa, thoroughly disheveled, and thoroughly turned on. He ran a hand through his hair, coaxing it to lay back down flat after Hermione's hands had been tangled in it, and tried to adjust his clothes, especially his now extremely uncomfortable pants.

The Veela raged within him, desperately clawing its way to the surface in order to take control. He had tried to be careful, tried to maintain his distance. But the minute Hermione's wicked little mouth had crashed onto his, he had been lost. The Veela took over and then they had been on the sofa, dry humping like wanton teenagers.

But with her grinding against his cock, Lucius had almost lost his mind, enjoying every moment. She was so fucking responsive. Every noise she made, every gasp, every sigh, every moan, tested every ounce of his control not rip off her clothes and ravish her right there. He had _just_ remained on the precipice, letting her dictate where they went. But _oh_ how his hands itched to be on her body again.

With other witches, sex had been all good fun. A way to ease the ache that the beast underneath his skin caused, never a lasting satisfaction, and a one and done when it came to each woman.

With this one, he couldn't get enough. He wanted her under him, over him, beside him, in every sinful way he could have here. Once he could touch her, kiss her, make her say his name, he never wanted to let her go.

He had watched in awe at the most erotic sight he had ever seen of her grinding on top of him, his hands and mouth urging her to seek her pleasure from him. Lucius was sure she had been close as her body had tightened considerably and she had ground onto him at that steady pace, but right before she could get over the brink, she had panicked.

Guilt washed over him. He had said he wouldn't push her, wouldn't add to the distress that she had experienced today, but here he was, adding to it.

Letting out a heavy breath, he stood, promptly turned on his heel and stalked out the library door in pursuit of the witch. This time, he'd go after her.

The walk through his hallways seemed to take an eternity as his mind grappled with the events that had just unfolded in his library.

Hermione Granger wanted him. That much was true. But Lucius had the sinking suspicion that whatever happened in the drawing room with that monster was causing her reactions: from the panic attacks to her fleeing from his presence. And everything in him wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms again, and make it all go away.

Hearing her cry, feeling her sobs, stirred in him an emotion that Lucius didn't often feel: incredible sympathy. He usually wasn't that comfortable with raw displays of emotion, besides rage, especially when it came to witches. But with Hermione, his every thought was her comfort, how her distress caused his chest to feel pained. Holding her, feeling her relax in his arms, gave him a euphoria that he couldn't even begin to describe.

Damn. He really was besotted with the girl, wasn't he?

He arrived at her door after a short while, still deep in thought. He gave a gentle rap on the wood.

Silence.

Another light knock.

Silence.

Lucius's eyebrows knit together in concern, mind jumping to the worst conclusions. But then a small, feminine voice answered and he relaxed slightly, glad that she hadn't fled the entire building.

"May I come in, Hermione?" He spoke warmly to the door, hoping to ease her worries with his voice, if at all possible. His Veela ears heard a slight shuffle and the door opened with a click to reveal a thoroughly kissed Hermione, disheveled hair and swollen lips. But the redness of her eyes that she tried to keep averted from him meant that she had been crying. Lucius felt another sickening swing of guilt in his chest as he stood at the door, taking her in.

The witch still tried to avoid his gaze, not wanting to show him that she'd been crying most likely. His hand gently reached out, slowly and within her line of sight so as to not spook her, and lightly lifted her chin with his fingers.

"Look at me, witch," he murmured softly. Those golden eyes reluctantly moved upward to meet his gaze. She was bare before him, too spent to rebuild the walls that she was so good at crafting around her. It was as if he could read every thought that crossed her mind in that moment of connection: terror, sadness, shame, weariness, but also hope and some other warm emotion he couldn't quite place.

There seemed to be a calm resignation within her. As if the fight had gone from her. Lucius loathed that more than anything. That monster may have taken some of her innocence with him, but he would not take her spirit.

He shuffled forward into her space, one arm circling around her waist, pulling her toward him gently, always allowing her to pull away should she decide to. The girl molded into him, cradling her hands into his chest, resting her head on him. His other hand snaked up to stroke her hair. She gave out a relaxed sigh and murmured something inaudible into his chest.

Lucius gave out a questioning noise causing her to raise her head to look at him.

"This is too good to be true. This feels too good to be real." There was a quiet sadness in her eyes, as if she had convinced herself that this was all some horrific nightmare with a fairytale thread woven within the story.

The girl gave out a light squeal as she was hoisted in the air, gathered into Lucius's arms. Her arms instinctively wound around his neck, stabilizing herself. He stood there, holding the witch with ease, and simply looked at her.

"Little lioness, have I ever been one to play? Offer sweet trivialities to soothe someone's feelings? To placate someone with silly lies to make them feel good for a moment?" He tried to have a stern voice with her, hoping it might reach through the haze of melancholy. A slight blush colored her cheeks as the witch realized her offense. She shook her head and ducked her head to hide amongst the veil of her mane.

"Look at me, girl."

As she peeked out from the ringlets in her face, Lucius began to move toward the bed, Hermione still in his arms. The Manor being the property of its Master, recognized his want and promptly shut the door with a sharp crack. He still held her gaze firmly.

"Nothing I have said to you in the house, nothing I have done, has been under any guise of deceit. There is no ulterior motive. There is only me, witch, Lucius Malfoy." He sat down on the bed, the girl still held in his arms securely. He effortlessly kicked off his shoes and slid back so he was sitting against the headboard, Hermione in his arms and on his lap, regarding him with wide, curious eyes.

/

Hermione's brain was on overdrive. Nothing made sense. Here she was, sitting on Lucius Malfoy's lap in bed, fresh off the most amazing snog she had every experienced, and she felt completely comfortable.

He had pursued her. Came after her even after that mortifying showing in the library. And when she had gotten up enough courage to open the door and face him, there was only concern that she could see in his expression. Concern for her.

Both times she had passed out from the power that flowed within her, he had been the one to wake up to. Both times she had needed someone to anchor her, give her power, he had done so without hesitation. The incredible amount of times panic had threatened to overtake her, he had calmly brought her back down to earth.

Hell, he even let his house elves off at a reasonable hour in the evening.

Maybe the former Death Eater had changed. Maybe the whole fear of him just trying to ruin her, were her own prejudices against him, her own fear for the desire she had for him.

His chuckle and gentle fingers tucking her hair behind her ear broke into her thoughts.

"Does your brain ever slow down, Hermione?" Her name on his lips made her shiver, his drawl having a power over her that felt stronger than that of the earth magick within her. The breathy, feminine voice was back in her head, urging her to taste her name on his lips.

She shook her head slowly, one way to answer him and one way to stifle whatever errant thought that was.

"Unfortunately, no, though sometimes I wish I could shut it off."

"An unfortunate side effect from being the brightest witch of your age, hmmm?" His tone was light, still gentle, but tinged with slight amusement. She felt her cheeks heat as she ducked her head again, feeling nervous and antsy under his attention.

"Please don't call me that," she said softly, sliding her knees up so that her arms could wrap around as her chin rested on them, though she was still securely in Lucius's lap, entangled in his strong arms.

His eyebrows rose at her response.

"That title is almost as awful as the one they gave Harry. 'The Chosen One'" she said bitterly. "All it does is just point people to you who only want to use you for that title. It just makes people want sometime from you, to either live up to it or have it come crashing down."

Those gentle hands found her chin again, lifting it to shake the veil of hair away from her face and to meet those silver eyes. This man certainly had an affinity for eye contact, didn't he? Though Hermione couldn't complain. It was intimate and uncomfortable, yes, but with him looking at her like that, not only did she truly feel like his entire focus was on her, she felt like he was being open with her, allowing her to see past whatever barrier he was so used to erecting.

"Little lioness," he spoke softly, "I'll never want from you what you do not freely give. And that's my word."

Hermione was flabbergasted.

The Death Eater promising the Mudblood.

It was absurd. It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical.

But then again, nothing about the past couple of days had been logical. It would seem that logic was not a necessity for life to continue and stories to unfold.

Every instinct. Every emotion. Everything within her wanted him, wanted to be close to him, to sit in comfortable silences with him, to banter with him, to kiss him. Hermione has never felt something like this, like she was magnetically drawn to a person. It confused her and scared her, not knowing if it was all her or all the magick within her.

She had been fighting it the entire time she was at the Manor, very poorly obviously, as multiple times she had ended up in quite a position with the wizard. Maybe she had been fighting it the entire time she'd worked alongside him as well?

It was true, the debates over her cases were thrilling. When one would pass with his signature, euphoric. He riled her in ways that no other man could, not even Ron in all his annoyances. He lit a fire in her that no other had before.

Maybe logic needed to be turned off for a little for her story to progress?

"I don't know how—" the words came tumbling out of her mouth before her filter could remember to do its job. She clamped her mouth shut to stem the flow.

The blond aristocrat smiled and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip.

"We can figure that out together, yes?" Hermione's heart fluttered at the word "we". She found her head nodding slightly in acquiescence before she had time to think.

What exactly was she agreeing to?

"I have no right to ask and you have every right to refuse, but will you tell me what he did to you?" The man's voice was the gentlest it had been, he arms tightening around her in comfort.

Hermione looked down at her hands. She hadn't told anyone before. She didn't even know if she could, not out loud. She wanted to. Needed to. Knew it was probably very unhealthy how she dealt with it all by herself. But her burdens were no other person's to bear. They all had witnessed horrors beyond imagination, who was she to drag someone down to her own brand of nightmares?

But everything in her wanted to tell him. Something about his promise, his gentle words, his genuineness, compelled her to want to tell him, to want to show him her everything, the pretty and the ugly.

"I can't."

His eyes were guarded as he nodded. "Of course, you don—" Hermione placed her fingers on his mouth, eyes meeting his, to stop his voice.

"I can't tell you, Lucius." She took a deep breath. "But I can show you."

/

Lucius gave a sharp intake of air, taken aback by the sincerity in her big brown eyes. She was going to allow him to see the horror she had witnessed, experienced. And there was no trepidation in her eyes, no uncertainty or fear.

She trusted him enough to give him this.

It was beyond anything he could comprehend.

He gently pushed her hand away from his mouth and cupped her cheek, brushing her jawline with his thumb. Slowly, keeping his eyes on her for any distress, he leaned forward. He stopped just centimeters from her face, letting her choose to accept him.

She did.

Hermione leaned into him, allowing Lucius to capture her lips in a sweet and gentle kiss, one that he hoped showcased his thankfulness for the gift of her trust, as undeserved as it was. This time, the Veela hummed in contentment, not wanting to rev things up as it knew Hermione needed slowness, sweetness, right now. Her full lips moved against his in her special way, slightly timid, but matching him at every step. She was intoxicating. Her shyness and her passion were addictive. Lucius could kiss her for the rest of his life, only kiss her, and be the happiest man that ever was.

They broke away and sat there gazing at each other in silence, both in wonder at the moment that had just passed. The energy between them had changed. No longer a frenzied energy, taut with passion, but a comfortable, warm energy, one that let Hermione relax and Lucius find encouragement to remain holding her.

Hermione placed her hand atop of his, still cupping her cheek. Her face was very serious now, but unguarded.

"I have the memory." Her implication was clear. She wanted him to dip into her thoughts and experience the memory, using her as a human Pensieve.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" He needed to be certain she was giving this and he not taking. "There is no pressure to share this with me."

She sighed, dropping her eyes, a light blush darkening her cheeks. "I know. But I have to tell— I _need_ to tell someone. And right now, without any logical explanation, I need that someone to be you."

His eyebrows rose slightly at this testament, but he only nodded, not wanting to draw attention to something that wasn't the most pressing matter. His hand firmly held her face, earning her full attention

"If it becomes too much, throw me out, understood?" He made his voice firm, businesslike. "You are in charge of what happens from here, Hermione." She sucked in a breath, a nodded only slightly frantically.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she concentrated, a pained expression gracing her face.

"Do it." She muttered.

"Legilimens."

He was in the Drawing Room, a room he hadn't entered since the war was over. The chandelier hung brightly, casting a warm glow over all the portraits of the Malfoy patriarchs through the years.

His eyes fell on the center of the memory, a woman with heavy lidded eyes, wild black hair, and a crazed expression, her talon-like hands clutching her wand and a silver dagger, staring murderously down at the witch on the ground. Hermione was on her back, elbows lifting her, staring back up at Bellatrix, trying to keep her face from showing the fear that was pulsing through her body.

He could see her magic wrapping around her, trying to offer a layer of protection. Hermione may not be able to see this part of her memory, but her magic had always been there and Lucius was able to view it as it had been. Before being chosen by the earth magick, her signature was a lovely shade of sky blue, the coolness depicting her intelligence, the heaviness showing her power.

He noticed himself in the corner, eyes riveted on the witches. It was always a bit eerie, watching oneself from a distance. He was gaunt, hair unkempt, unshaven: those months had taken a toll on him and his family. The Dark Lord had broken them all in a way. He remembered being in this room, disgusted at Bellatrix, wanting nothing more than to end this all.

" _Crucio_!" Came Bellatrix's hoarse croak, wand slashing through the air at the curly haired witch underneath her. Hermione's body contorted impossibly, her head flung back as her mouth released a bloodcurling shriek. Lucius remembered the chills moving up his spine at the sound.

He had never had a soft stomach when it came to torture. He had been one of the Dark Lord's choice few to get out actual information from enemies instead of just ruining them as some of his other followers were bound to do. However, he remembered despising the scene before him, something in him wanting to end it, wanting to step in, wanting to kill Bellatrix, but having to stop himself for fear of the safety of his family.

Bellatrix rotated between screaming at the girl, questioning how she had gotten the Gryffindor sword, and unleashing the Cruciatus Curse on her. Hermione's screams were horrible, staggering him, a knife in his heart.

Lucius was amazed Hermione's mind stayed sane throughout the time, as there was usually a limit to how many times one could endure the curse repeatedly. He wondered if her magic had a hand in protecting her in some way.

Yet she still remained firm, unwavering in spite of the torture, never once giving up information to his deranged ex-sister-in-law, even when she descended upon her, knife in hand to brand her with the word that would "mark her shame".

Hermione's tight scream and convulsed body made Lucius's whole body ache with the desire to help, not caring that this was just a memory. He fell to his knees, overcome. She was magnificent in her unyielding loyalty, and inhuman strength, but this physically hurt him to remember this, to see it so vividly. To witness himself lurking in the shadows, watching the entire scene and doing absolutely nothing. His chest ached with the knowledge that this scene probably replayed in all its horror in Hermione's mind daily.

Bellatrix rose from the witch to stalk over to him in the memory, telling him to grab the Goblin to confirm the legitimacy of the sword. Hermione lay crumpled on the ground, chest heaving, wide eyes staring emptily at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of her face, trying to retain enough strength to stay alive, to stay sane, to prep for the pain that would inevitably retake her.

Suddenly, everything paused. Lucius looked around, confused. He and Bellatrix were in mid discussion, but completely still, as if frozen in place. The only one still moving was Hermione, as she breathed shallow, uneven breaths, unaware of how her surroundings were affected. Lucius's blood ran cold as he noticed a figure slither out of the shadows, red eyes fixated on the witch on the ground.

With a flick of his wand, Lucius's wand, Hermione was blindfolded and levitated off of the ground so that she was level with his waist. A slight gasp from her let Lucius know she was fully conscious and fully aware of someone else in the room with them.

"Well, well, Mudblood," came the Dark Lord's high voice as he circled her like a vulture, black robes billowing around him like kicked up fog. "I'm impressed at this resilience." His long finger wrapped around a curl, making her head jerk away from the contact. "I thought you would be weaker, seeing how impure your blood is, but you surprise me."

"Says the halfblood," she responded scathingly, apparently now well aware of who was in the room with her. If Lucius had time to think, he would have been impressed at her bravery, but was immediately enraged when a harsh slap graced her cheek. His hands clenched into fists, hating the helplessness.

"Careful, mudblood," The Dark Lord's voice was murder. "Your life hangs in my hands. I'd have a bit more respect if I were you."

She gave a hoarse, humorless laugh. "Respect? Riddle, rats are more worthy of respect than you." Voldemort echoed her laugh, a shrill, cold-blooded sound that Lucius knew never meant anything good.

He traced her cheek with a long, pale finger. "There's fire in you, Mudblood. No wonder those two boys keep you around. No matter, the best part of having spirit is having it broken." His finger trailed down her neck, eliciting a shiver of disgust from Hermione as her head jerked away from his touch, teeth bared. The Dark Lord's red eyes gleamed as he gaze raked over her figure.

"A pity such a delectable body is wasted on a Mudblood like you," he murmured at her, "but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, does it?" His voice was cold and mocking. Hermione's body spasmed as his hand stroked her side.

 **TRIGGER WARNING (take care of yourselves lovelies)**

Her head threw back suddenly, her neck straining, and a whimper escaped her lips as Voldemort clawed his way into her mind. Lucius knew all too well the painful way the Dark Lord chose to enter the mind. With a feral grin, he released her, Hermione's body slamming back straight as he exited her brain.

The beast bent down to murmur into her ear. "Do you know how delicious it is that you've never been touched? How delectable it is that you so want to be?" His tongue peeked out to run along the shell of her ear, Lucius almost expected it to be forked, his fingers reaching up to hold her face in place so she couldn't move away.

"Fuck off, you sick bastard," Hermione cried. A quick slap quieted her again.

"Respect, Mudblood," The dark warning very plain in his voice. "I won't take you today, no, when I take you it'll be because I've broken that spirit so much that you'll be begging for my cock to tear that filthy cunt apart." Hermione's body jerked again at his language, shuddering in disgust.

"But that doesn't mean I can't taste you, hmm?" The witch went very still. Her magic wrapped around her in protection, terror gripping her body at what that could mean for her. "Leave you with a parting memory until I can have you again?"

His long, spindling hands caressed her body, running up and down her sides, brushing over her breasts. Hermione started to tremble.

"Get off me!" She cried, desperately fighting the magic that held her captive. With a simple wave of his hand, the witch was silenced.

"I'll let you speak when I know the sounds you make will be ones that I cause."

He slinked around her, and with a snap of his fingers, her jean clad legs were spread. Hermione started to struggle harder, mouth opening in an enraged and terrified silence yell. Another wave of his pale hand, and her limbs were stretched taut, wrists above her head and legs stretched tight, ceasing her movements. Voldemort moved to stand between her legs.

He leaned forward, his hands exploring her body. He found her breasts again, kneading them through the cloth of her shirt. When her nipples stood from stimulation, he gave a dark chuckle and pinched them harshly.

"Your body responds so easily, Mudblood. How does it feel to know you want this? That you want your enemy to touch you like this?" Tears started to roll down Hermione's from under her blindfold as she shook her head frantically.

"You disagree? Well. There's an easy way to find that out." Lucius watched, horrified as the Dark Lord ripped her jeans at the crotch. He was halfway thankful Voldemort's robes covered her as he didn't think he could handle seeing what was about to occur.

His hand dipped between her legs. Hermione's hips bucked. Voldemort let out a low laugh.

"See how your pussy drips for me, Mudblood?" Lucius saw his arm start to move. "How does that feel? My fingers fucking your virgin cunt? Does that feel good?"

Hermione turned her head away, tears streaming down her face as her hips undulated against Voldemort's hands. They bucked again.

"My, my, that clit is sensitive isn't it? How does it feel to react to me like the dirty little Mudblood whore you are?" He continued to speak filthy, horrific things to the witch as his hand worked her.

"How those two imbeciles are missing out on this tight little pussy."

Voldemort voice had grown hoarser, huskier, betraying his own desire. Lucius felt like his jaw was about to crack from clenching it due to the rage that roared in his chest.

Hermione's chest started to heave, her body tightening against the magical bonds. Voldemort flourished his hand and the silencing charm was wiped away. Her breaths could be heard, slight gasps and whimpers escaping her lips as her body betrayed her. Her breaths came faster and shallower as if climbing stairs.

"Come," Voldemort commanded, his arm still moving. Hermione's back bowed as she came, her body shuddering, sinewy and battle-worn muscles clenching and unclenching, as an unwanted orgasm ripped through her. Her mouth opened to release a womanly wail. The Dark Lord worked her as she orgasmed, prolonging it for as long as her body could handle and then more so. When she collapsed, he gave a snap and moved away, her jeans intact.

Hermione was trembling, choking on sobs. Voldemort moved toward her ear and sucked on his two fingers, lapping at the essence that her body had left on this.

"You have a sweet taste, Mudblood. Feel that pleasure wracking your body, girl, and know that Lord Voldemort gave you that." Hermione turned her head to be covered by her outstretched arm. The Dark Lord laughed at her reaction.

 **END TRIGGER WARNING**

"Cry however much you want, silly girl, nothing will stop me from having you. I'm leaving you now, but I will return to you once I have conquered Hogwarts. Even the boy won't keep me here as I have need of him to die in front of those that cling so tightly to hope. Goodbye for now, Hermione Granger. Escape and know that I will follow you to the ends of the world to have you."

He disappeared without a sound. Hermione returned to the ground, in her original crumpled position, blindfold gone. Small tendrils of flame colored magick rose from the ground, slinking to the witch, swirling around her body, melding gently with her blue colored power until it all disappeared within her abdomen.

Bellatrix's voice startled Lucius as time was allowed to move naturally again.

"Lucius," came Hermione's otherworldly voice. He followed her voice out of her mind and was returned to looking at the stricken witch on his lap.

/

Hermione felt like she might vomit, suddenly nauseous at the thought of Lucius knowing her on the deepest, darkest level. She squeezed her eyes shut, too afraid to even look at him.

She was filthy.

How would he ever look at her the same with those beautiful silver eyes? How would he ever want her in the way he had shown her after seeing that? Could she handle the inevitable disgust he would have for her?

Gentle hands cradled her face, wiping away tears she didn't even know she had cried.

"Hermione, love, look at me please," she had never heard him be so gentle, so sweet. She slowly opened her eyes, still fearful of his reaction. She was met with his mercurial gaze, eyes intently searching her face, his face completely unreadable. They sat there for a moment just staring at each other until Hermione could bear the silence no longer.

"Please say something," she whispered. His eyes gentled as his thumbs stroked her cheeks delicately.

"Beautiful witch," he murmured to her. "You're the strongest of all of us." She started to softly protest, her eyes flicking downward, ashamed, but his hands kept her from ducking her head. "There is no shame here, little lioness. None at all."

"But I— he made me—" Hermione choked on her words as tears flooded her eyes. This was the first time she had every spoken about it to anyone and it was overwhelming. Lucius wiped away every tear that escaped.

"Your body reacted how a body would, Hermione. There is no shame in that. He took advantage of something you have no control over." His voice was firm, but filled with emotion as he made sure he met her eyes as he said those words. "You didn't want it. Even if you orgasmed, you didn't want it."

Hermione leaned her head into the crook of his neck and sobbed, feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed. The pain was fresh again, like a re-torn wound, but his words felt freeing. She had repeated that same thought to herself over and over and over, trying to convince herself of its truth. But hearing it uttered voluntarily from someone's else's lips felt like part of that wound was being sewn up again.

Lucius whispered sweet nothings to her as she cried, hands stroking her back, her face, her hair. And she cried and cried and cried until she had nothing left, as if she was expelling the Dark Lord's grasp on her soul with every sob, every tear.

Spent, she sighed into the wizard's chest and gave a slight hiccup. "I'm sorr—"

"Hush, witch. Today is not a day to apologize. Feel however way you need to feel." Lucius cradled her in his arms.

"I feel tired," Hermione muttered earning her a masculine chuckle. Lucius stirred underneath her as if to get up, but stilled the minute her small hand grasped his larger one.

"Will you stay with me, Lucius?" She looked at him through her lashes, suddenly shy, and nervous at her bold request. He blinked at her, surprised, but his eyes stayed gentle.

"Whatever you want, Hermione." He replied with a small smile. She blushed with happiness, a little embarrassment woven in, feeling like a school girl whose crush had waved at her from across the schoolyard.

He moved her effortlessly off his lap to a sitting position with her legs hanging off the side of the bed. He rose to stand above her, but then quickly knelt at her knees. Slowly he reached for her small trainer covered foot and gently took off the shoe, holding her calf delicately. He repeated the movement with her other shoe as well.

Hermione could feel her cheeks burning as she looked down at the man. This felt entirely too intimate. But, after all, she had invited him to stay in her bed. Not like that though! Not yet. Oh Merlin what if he thought—

"Hermione, I will sleep by your side tonight, you have my word. As I said before, you're in control of where we go from here." He looked up at her reassuringly, and Hermione couldn't help but feel completely at ease with the blond in her room, about to share her bed.

Lucius rose gracefully and, with a wave of his hand, his casual muggle dress was replaced with those green silk pajama pants, his magnificently masculine chest bare to her once more. Hermione worried her lip with her teeth as she took him in again, dazzled by how handsome he was, blushing deeper than she thought humanly possible.

He laughed at her reaction, an easy laugh that made her smile at him, and moved toward her. She scooted backwards, her feet coming up to her chest. He stopped with a raised eyebrow.

"That looks a tad uncomfortable for sleeping, witch," he said dryly, motioning to her ensemble of a blouse and jeans. Hermione flicked her eyes down in embarrassment. In her daze of witnessing a shirtless Lucius Malfoy, her brain seemed to have forgotten to function correctly. She mirrored his hand flourish and she was in her favorite comfy pajamas: a tank top and sleep shorts.

The amusement in Lucius eyes quickly changed to heat as he took her in. Maybe this was a bit revealing? She hadn't thought—

But Lucius smiled warmly at her again as he made to get onto the bed, fists and outstretched arms catching his weight, causing the muscles in his shoulders and biceps to ripple in a particularly mesmerizing way. He stretched out under the green silk covers and reached his hand out to her, leaving it open for her to take.

Hermione felt shy again, but reached out a hand with a slight tremble and she was pulled and turned so that her back was to Lucius's chest. He moved the covers to situate them both underneath the silk material.

Hermione could feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest: she had never lain with a man like this. Lucius's arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. It felt incredible: how perfectly they fit together, him curled around her and her nestled into him.

"Relax, little witch. Let that brain rest." He murmured in her ear. He was right. Dealing with whatever was between them could wait til morning. Right now, they needed to rest.

Hermione concentrated on slowing down her breathing and giving into the exhaustion that the day had caused, letting her mind wander as her body relaxed into the bed and into Lucius's strong arms.

And so they slept.

 **/**

 **This was a hard chapter to write, but I do hope I did it the justice that I think things like these need. Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi lovelies! Heavy smut warning for the next couple of chapters. Ye be warned ;)**

Chapter 9

Hermione woke to the warm morning light tumbling into her room. She stretched her legs out, sighing into her pillow, once again feeling oh so extravagant with the silk sheets wrapping delicately around her body. She froze when she felt an arm around her waist squeeze her gently, almost jumping into war mode, but then it all came back: her sharing with Lucius her worst memory, him being the best comforter she had ever experienced, and her boldly asking him to stay with her.

She turned over so that she was facing the wizard and sucked in a breath at what she saw. One would think a girl would get used to how gorgeous Lucius Malfoy was, but here she was, dazzled again. He was relaxed in his sleep, like how he was when he read, those sharp planes of his face smoothed into a youthful visage. Strands of his silvery blond hair feel dreamily into this face as the same colored chest hair that covered the strong and muscular expanse of skin gleamed in the sunlight, creating almost a halo effect on the wizard.

His wicked mouth curved into a smile as the arm that wrapped around her squeezed her again and pulled her close.

"Ogling again, Hermione? One might begin to think you might like what you see?" Oh Merlin, that deep and rough, just-woken-up voice of his was one of the sexiest sounds she had ever heard. The witch buried her face in his chest, a little overwhelmed at the morning glory that was before her. His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he stroked her hair from her face.

"Shy, little lioness?" Hermione could feel her cheeks heat, feeling suddenly very skittish. She had never woken up beside a man like this and she didn't really know how to act. Truth be told, her brain hadn't really gotten to this stage after letting her mouth blurt out the request for him to stay the night. Hell, she hadn't even gotten past the whole telling him her darkest horror part of yesterday.

His hands moved from brushing her hair back to pushing her face upwards from under her chin. Hermione let him guide her face toward his as his lips pressed the sweetest kiss to her mouth. It was soft and firm, slow with just a hint of heat to leave her breathless. It was the epitome of a morning kiss, no rush needed, just them laying there in the warmth of the slept-in bed, drinking each other in.

Lucius hummed against her mouth as he gave her bottom lip a slight nibble, slowly breaking away, as if it pained him to stop. Hermione languidly blinked at him, feeling almost drunk with his kisses.

"If every morning could be like this, I'd never get out of bed," he said softly as he stroked her face, looking at her as if she was something worthy of awe. Hermione's eyes widened at the testament, surprised at his sincerity, his gentleness, his sweetness.

Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, eyes searching his handsome face as she tried to understand the emotions that ran through her so intensely.

She wanted him. More than anyone she had ever even halfway had a crush on before. He made her body sing in ways she had never experienced, riled her up in ways no one else could. He could stand toe to toe with her in every capacity: intelligence, stubbornness, power.

"How do you do it?" She blurted out, not too tactfully. That eyebrow rose as an amused smirk graced his face.

"Well first I like to get you properly aroused. Those little noises you make are oh so—" he laughed when she flushed and interrupted him.

"Not that!"

"That's a very vague question, Hermione, I might need some more detail," he said dryly, eyes dancing with amusement as he rolled back to sit up, resting on the headboard. Hermione huffed as she rose up as well, sitting cross legged to face the man.

"How is it that you're so powerful?" She corrected herself quickly at his raised eyebrows. "Not that there's a reason you should be weaker. It's just that the Unspeakable said you're one of the few that I can siphon magic from. Do you know why you're able to withstand it?"

She watched as Lucius's face became guarded, expression disappearing so it was like slate.

Her heart sank. Had she pried too far? Did he actually know and didn't want to say? Was he not comfortable enough to tell her?

Of course. She might have shared her vulnerabilities, but he had never promised to reciprocate.

It felt like she had been punched in the gut at that thought as her eyes dropped to stare at her hands in her lap. Here she was, more vulnerable than she had ever been to someone. Had she been rash in her decision to tell him? Was he really that good of an actor to get her weakness out of her? Had she been the silly fool to trust a Malfoy?

She felt a tug on her hair, breaking her from her panicked reverie. Hermione slowly raised her eyes to meet his, afraid she would be met with the same stony-faced expression showing her that her fears had been proven right. But the wizard's face was open, gray eyes thoughtful.

"I'm part Veela."

/

The witch blinked at him a couple of times, face blank as she took in the statement he had just shared. Lucius held her gaze coolly, inwardly almost a little anxious at her reaction.

"Part...Veela..." she said slowly, thoughtfully. He could practically see her brain working as she analyzed just what exactly that meant. In any other situation, he might have been distracted by those little blue shorts that just barely covered her legs, but here he was, more worried for what she would think about this new information.

"And Draco...?" Lucius nodded.

"A bit more diluted, but yes."

"How far back?" Well that was an unexpected question. But he should have known: Hermione Granger would always be more curious and more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than to recoil at a new finding.

"Veelas have been a part of the Malfoy line for generations. The most recent full-blooded was my grandfather's wife."

"But how—?"

"Veelas mate. And with Malfoys possessing Veela traits themselves, there's always the possibility that their mate could be a full blood. The women are particularly predatory when it comes to finding their mates, but seeing as how they look the way they do, most of the men in my family line had no complaints." Lucius kept his voice businesslike, almost scholarly, as he explained something to the witch he had only explained to members of his family.

But who was he to hide something as trivial as a family line when Hermione had shared her nightmare with him? He had almost resorted back to his old ways, just simply lying his way out and protecting himself, but the sadness on her face at his first reaction had filled him with guilt.

Hermione tilted her head in wonder at him. "And so your mate—?" Her eyes widened, horrified at her invasiveness. "I'm sorry! That's absolutely none of my business." Her cheeks flamed once more as she ducked her head.

Lucius chuckled. "I haven't found mine. Narcissa was a good match for a Malfoy that never felt the pull to a particular person. The traits are diluted enough within me that I won't die should I not properly mate."

"Oh." She responded quietly, looking at her hands. "So... you're like me." She peeked up at him through the veil of her hair.

"In certain ways, yes. Questionable blood status to the Pureblood population, unwanted power that almost uncontrollable, the desire to mate... " He trailed off as he looked at her thoughtfully, as if he was looking at her for the first time, finally understanding his draw to her. In every aspect, she was his equal. Her intellect, her power, her passion.

Feeling like the conversation was a bit too serious for the nice morning they were having, he was on her in an instant, pushing her back as he locked her wrists in his hands, causing her to squeal in shock. He crouched over her, one knee between her legs. He leaned his head down so his mouth was just a breath from hers.

"Except for the fact that with how powerful you are, your reaction time is shit," he murmured at her, laughing at the indignant and flushed look he received. She wriggled underneath him trying to push him off.

"That's not fair!" She huffed. "Whatever Veela traits you have are probably enhances your—your everything!" Lucius smirked as he leaned further to press his mouth to her ear.

"Yes, little witch, _everything_. Are you quite sure you can keep up?" She shivered at the feel of his breath on her neck. He raised his head up to look at her, her face flushed, hair fanned out, eyes bright, those sleeping clothes showing parts of her creamy skin that almost made his mouth water.

"You're breathtaking, Hermione," he murmured. She went still, eyes widening in shock. Her mouth automatically opened, but the witch was unable to get a word out because he descended upon her.

Lucius still kept the kiss slow and searching, wanting to go a little easier for a while, sensing her need for some degree of steadiness right now. His mouth molded to hers perfectly and she let out a delicate sigh as she allowed him to explore her mouth, giving up her vice-like grip on her own self control so that he could take the lead.

Her giggle broke the kiss when her stomach gave a rumble.

Lucius chuckled and sat up, pulling her up easily to a seated position as he rose.

"And I'm assuming that is our alarm clock," he said as he got out of bed. "Twinkle?" He spoke into the air and, with a resounding crack, a small female house elf appeared. She was clothed in a small dress that looked like it could fit a doll. After he had freed her, but also allowed her to stay and work, she had taken up sewing in her free time and often created her own clothes. Her patterns were always atrocious, but very endearing to see her in them.

"Yes, Mr. Lucius?" She squeaked.

"Would you mind making me and Miss Granger here some breakfast?" The elf's orb-like eyes fell on Hermione, and then glanced between the two. A huge grin spread across her narrow face.

"Of course! Twinkle will bring Mr. Lucius and his mate the best breakfast they've ever eaten!" With another crack, she was gone.

Lucius just stood there, staring at the empty air that was filled by the house elf just a mere second ago, the ground underneath him feeling very unsteady.

No.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

House elves were known to possess a power and knowledge and insight that greatly surpassed that of a witch or wizard, but there'd be no way for her to tell who his mate was. _He_ couldn't even tell who his mate was.

Lucius turned slowly, almost trepidatiously, to see if Hermione had heard the elf. Just by her wide eyed stare, she had.

/

Hermione sat on the bed, completely dumbfounded.

It couldn't be true.

Could it?

How would a house elf know that? How would anyone know that? Could house elves see something that witches and wizards and apparently Veela couldn't?

She watched as Lucius regarded her, face unreadable.

What if it was true? How would he feel about it? How would she feel about it?

She hoped that the whole mating thing would bring her to someone that she would actually want to be with. If Lucius was her mate, could she handle that kind of commitment? And to him?

They just sat there, looking at each other in silence, too lost in their own thoughts to actually notice the other person. Within a few minutes, Twinkle appeared again, a silver tray laden with eggs, toast, sausage, orange juice, all the breakfast foods that made Hermione's mouth water. It was when the smell hit her that she realized she hadn't been eating like she should, but she guessed that was to be expected with everything going on.

Twinkle still had that grin on her large face, looking back and forth between the two of them. Lucius watched the elf as she milled around the room, setting their breakfast up on a little table that sat in the corner of the bedroom. Lucius's eyes were riveted on the elf, his body completely still, like a living statue. It was beginning to make her nervous.

Finally, her curiosity and anxiety overtook her.

"Twinkle?" She said softly.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" The elf looked at her happily.

"A little bit ago you said I was Mr. Malfoy's mate. What did you mean by that?" The little elf paused and looked between the two of them again, a puzzled look on her face. She pointed two long fingers at both of them.

"Your magics, Miss Granger. The magics have mixed. That means Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger are mates." She seemed confused that they didn't already know this.

"Magics?" Hermione didn't know what she meant.

Lucius made a strangled noise, causing her face to snap to the wizard. "You can see them too?"

Twinkle nodded. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, like your Veela can. Only, I think Mr. Malfoy can't see the mixing because he hasn't opened his eyes all the way."

"You can see magic?!" Hermione said incredulously. Lucius didn't answer, but stalked to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder. He threw it into the crackling fire, making it roar to a new green life.

"Department of Mysteries. Unspeakable 59. Lucius Malfoy." There was a tense silence within the room as they waited for the Unspeakable to get the message.

Eventually the tiger patronus stepped through the flames, regarding the occupants of the room coolly. Hermione suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. It most definitely looked like they had shared a bed, both of them sleepily disheveled, in sleep clothes, and Lucius without even a shirt on. Thank Merlin this Unspeakable was unable to tell the world anything it saw.

"Is there a problem?" The disembodied voice asked.

"My house elf seems to think that Miss Granger and I are mates. She mentioned our magics are mixing, which, apparently, I am unable to see. If our magics are mixing, that would come from her siphoning me, correct?"

Hermione hoped that this was a relatively simple answer, even though she was sure the Unspeakable would probably be annoyed with being summoned on such a trivial matter.

It seemed like the tiger hesitated. Lucius's eyes seemed to burn a hole in the patronus.

"Well?" He said impatiently, his voice tight, the tone he would use that would send lower ministry workers scurrying away to complete his request.

A sigh came from the teethed maw of the Unspeakable's patronus. "You were supposed to figure this out by yourselves."

"WHAT." Hermione and Lucius spoke together.

"You can't siphon magic from just anyone, Miss Granger," The tiger moved his massive head to look at her. "You can only share magic with a mate."

Hermione's hands went in her hair as she felt panic wash over her.

This couldn't be happening. That can't be right. It didn't make sense.

The tiger returned its gaze to the blond wizard that stood like a statue in front of it. "Like I said, Mr. Malfoy, we kept careful watch over you, knowing the Veela could potentially present a problem if you remained on the side you were with originally."

The patronus glanced between the witch and wizard. "I understand that this is a lot to take in. I will leave you now to have some time to think about this and perhaps discuss it. We will reconvene in the morning." Then the tiger just disappeared like vapor.

Lucius's back was still to her as he still faced the fireplace, his pale skin stretched tight over the sinewy muscles in his back. His hand reached to grab the mantle and his knuckles were white, indicating the vice-like grip he had on the marble..

"Twinkle," came his quiet voice, "Thank you for our breakfast. You may have the rest of the day off. Same to all the other elves."

The little elf squealed and clapped her hands, obviously unaware of the tension filling the room. "Thank you! Oh thank you, Mr. Malfoy!" And with a crack, the elf was gone.

The silence that ensued was deafening. Hermione's brain had gone blank for the first time ever. She ached to know what was going on in Lucius's head, but his back remained turned.

"Luc—" She began.

"Don't." He voice was clipped, harsh.

"Why?"

He turned slowly to her, his eyes that bright, light color, his face like thunder. He stalked toward her slowly, like a predator coming upon its prey.

"Because now that I know, I don't think I can control myself, witch. Because I want you. I want to _fuck_ you."

Hermione's eyes widened as she blushed crimson, mouth opening indignantly. But the look on his face made her falter.

"Because I want to fuck you, witch, and hold you, and talk to you, and wake up to you, and _be with you_." His voice and face softened as he dropped to his knees beside the bed.

"Because the Veela in me knew it was true the minute I heard it. But you deserve so much more." His eyes bored into hers, filled with emotion. "You deserve to be able to choose. You deserve to be with someone who can make you happy. You deserve to be with someone who deserves you." He ran his hands through his hair, desperately searching her face.

Hermione dropped her gaze and looked at her hands in her lap, overwhelmed.

She had a mate. The magick had chosen a mate.

But that didn't make sense. The magick may be new and powerful, but it never made her do anything she didn't already want to do. It may have lowered her inhibitions when it came to Lucius, but that was about it.

But her mate didn't want her? That thought gutted her, made her chest hurt.

"What if I did?" She said quietly, eyes still glued to her lap. She could feel his stare burning into her as she saw him lift his head in her periphery.

"Did what, Hermione?" The was an edgy, desperate rasp to the man's voice, as if he was teetering over a ledge.

"Chose you."

A beat of silence.

"Be very careful, witch. You don't know the consequences of what you say."

Hermione raised her eyes defiantly to meet his molten silver ones. "I don't speak just to hear myself, Lucius." He regarded her carefully, seeming to be weighing options.

"Then tell me what you want, witch."

Hermione could feel the tension between them, thick and heady. She knew her next words would define her future forevermore, but strangely felt no anxiety over uttering what she knew to be the truth.

"You."

/

He was on her in a instant, mouth crashing against hers with every ounce of passion it felt like he had within him. His hands tangled in her hair anchoring her face to his, her body leaned forward as he tilted his face up to meet hers, still on his knees as if worshipping her. Hermione hands went to cling to his wrists, hanging on for dear life.

That one word was enough to make him come undone.

Mate.

His mate.

 _His._

The Veela roared with triumph as the wizard understood and accepted what that meant.

He devoured her mouth, biting gently on her bottom lip so that she'd allow him in. His tongue drew hers out, coaxing her to life as she rose to accept his challenge. But she allowed him swift control as he molded his lips to hers.

He needed to be closer, needed to feel her. His mouth still on hers, he effortlessly pushed her back down to the mattress as he climbed onto the bed. One knee sank in the soft mattress between her legs as he hovered over her.

Lucius broke the kiss, moving his hand that wasn't supporting his weight the nape of her neck. He tilted her head back to extend her throat to give him more room as he moved his mouth down her jawline, to her neck, to her collarbone, peppering the smooth skin with kisses and soft nibbles here and there. Every time his lips grazed her body, Hermione would respond, gasping, sighing, her hands tangling in his hair. He moved to her earlobe, causing her head to tilt even further making her body slide down the bed since his weight caused a dip in the mattress. The apex of her thighs brushed up against his knees and she moaned as her backed arched into him.

He felt her moan all the way down to his groin, hardening as the Veela crowed at him to take her and take her now. But Lucius went still, fighting for control as he stopped to stare down at the girl.

She was exquisite. Her wild curls fanned out, face flushed, eyes bright, lips swollen, chest heaving. He was struck silent for a moment, just taking the witch in.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Lucius smiled at her concern. "Absolutely not. You're perfect." She blushed in response to that compliment, averting her eyes. Lucius shifted so he was laying on his side, beside her, holding his head up so he could look down at her. His fingertips on his free hand absentmindedly stroked her arm up and down, up and down.

Her big amber eyes followed him, that brow still knit. Lucius chuckled.

"Are you pouting, little witch?" The color of her cheeks deepened even further and her eyes flicked away from his.

"No! I just—I thought—" Her shyness was getting in the way of her words again.

"Thought what, Hermione?" Lucius encouraged gently.

"I didn't want you to stop." Her voice was small and her face turned to stare up at the top of the four poster bed. Lucius carefully grabbed her chin so that she would face him.

"Trust me, witch, it's taken every ounce of my strength not to fuck you the way I want." He liked the way she bit her lip whenever his language was coarser. "But I need to know you know the consequences of this. Mating isn't something that can be taken lightly. It's more intimate than even a marriage, more binding and more powerful than the Unbreakable Vow. Once we start, there is not stopping."

Her wide, innocent eyes blinked at him as she took in this information silently. Then, slowly, her hand rose to stroke his cheek.

"I can't for the life of me find a reason why I'd want to stop," she said quietly, the blush on her cheeks betraying her embarrassment at the statement. Then she lifted her face to his, gently brushing her lips against his.

Lucius smirked into the kiss and he grabbed the witch and flipped them effortlessly so he was underneath her, with her straddling him.

She squealed and bolted upwards in surprise, eyes wide as she stared down at him, hands on his chest to steady herself.

"Like I said, little lioness. You're in control of where we go from here," he purred at her, watching her always delicious reaction to his voice.

"What do I—? I don't know what—" She stuttered, refusing to meet his eyes. He loved her shyness, planning all the ways he could make that fall away.

"Do what feels good." His hands snaked up to grip her hips, thumbs rubbing circles into her pelvis. He gently guided her hips to grind down on his, mirroring her movements from their time in the library. Hermione gasped and threw her head back, getting the message and starting to undulate her hips on her own.

"That's it, love." Lucius groaned, loving the feeling of her grinding down onto him, feeling her heat through her those little shorts that showed off her legs in a way that made him want to lose his mind. He pressed up into her, pulling her down by the hips, making the friction that much more intense. Hermione cried out.

He rose up to her, keeping one hand gripping her to continue to guide her movements, the other hand shaking up her back to support her as he began ministrations on her neck again. With her head flung back, the wonderful creamy-skinned column was his for the taking.

Lucius's hands went to the hem of her little sleep shirt, fingers tracing it back and forth, back and forth. His mouth found hers again as he kissed her deeply, tongue yet again showing his dominance. His hands reached under the cloth, gripping the sides of her stomach to still guide her, never wanting the delicious feeling of her grinding down on him to end.

But the minute his hands touched her soft skin, he wanted more. Wanted to see her, to feel her.

He flipped them again, so that he was hovering over her, his arms holding him up above the witch. Hermione looked up at him, eyes dark with want. He smirked down at her, loving the fact that _he_ was doing this to her. He lowered his lips to her ear.

"You have no idea how fucking _long_ I've waited for this, witch," he murmured to her, his teeth nibbling on her lobe, earning him a particularly wanton moan. He kissed down her neck once more.

"Can I see you?" His hand tugged on the hem of her shirt to further get his point across, knowing that her brain might be a bit hazy. Hermione went still and looked up at him with wide eyes. At first Lucius felt as if she might refuse and was preparing to reel everything back in, when she gave a small, nervous nod.

He lowered his head again, capturing her lips in a slow and sweet kiss. He lifted his head to meet her eyes, making sure she was fully focused before he spoke. "Remember, you're in charge here, Hermione. Tell me to stop and I'll stop."

The girl gave a shy smile at his words, but crossed her arms down her torso, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and pulling it up and over her head. She tossed the offending garment across the room.

"Don't stop, Lucius, please."

Lucius chuckled. "Your wish is my command." But his laughter soon died in his throat as he looked down to take in the new areas of the witch he hadn't seen before. Her skin was smooth and gorgeously golden, a small scar that sat above her belly button the only imperfection (if you could even call it that). Her breasts were covered in a simple black bra, one that had a white bow in the center.

"You're exquisite, love." Her arms lifted to cover herself, eyes averting his, cheeks reddening, as she became shy again. Lucius gently kept her wrists away, dropping reassuring kisses on her face.

"Remember: no shame here, little lioness. I want to see you, all of you." He took her in again, almost groaning at the sight. His hands slid up her stomach, causing the skin to skitter across the muscle underneath. A low giggle came from the witch. Lucius smiled at her ticklishness as he captured her lips one more time.

"I'll remember that, witch. For later." He smirked at her. Then he focused on the black cotton clad beauties that were making his mouth water with want. His hands brushed over her breasts, testing her comfortability. Hermione's eyes fluttered as she sucked in a breath. There didn't seem to be any unwillingness in her eyes.

Lucius grabbed firmer handfuls, molding her breasts underneath his hands. Hermione's backed arched and he felt her nipples harden underneath his ministrations. He lightly flicked them through the material of her bra, causing her hips to buck underneath him and earning a breathy "Lucius."

He growled at hearing his name, leaning to attack her neck again, this time with slightly harder bites that left her gasping underneath him as he continued to mold and shape her breasts.

"May I?" He practically groaned in her ear, the implication hopefully very clear. Hermione's back arched in acquiescence, allowing his hands to snake behind her and unclasp her bra. The minute she felt the material go slack, she froze, face flushing.

Lucius stopped to look down at her, his hair falling in her face. He dropped a sweet kiss on her lips once more.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" He asked her directly. She bit her lip as she looked at him and nodded. "Speak, witch. Use those words you're so good at using."

She took a breath, cheeks burning. "I— I'm okay."

"Do you want me to continue?" His member ached with want, but he'd do anything to make sure she was comfortable.

Her eyes widened in panic. "Yes!" She blurted out and then quickly corrected. "I—I mean—yes. Please don't stop." Lucius chuckled at her reaction.

"Eager, little witch? Do you like it when I touch you like this?" He purred at her, dipping his head down to nibble at her collarbone as he slowly removed her bra from her chest. His hands quickly covered them to help her feel a little less exposed. A strangled gasp came from her lips.

Touching her like this was exhilarating. Hearing her pleasure fall from her lips even more so. His fingers softly flicked her attentive nipples, causing another breathy name drop. He watched her as he touched her, her brow furrowing in pleasure, eyes fluttering at every touch, hands fisting the sheets, teeth working that bottom lip to try to stifle her sounds.

"Let me hear you, love. It's alright. Tell me how I make you feel," He crooned at her. And before she could respond, he took one of her nipples in his mouth, laving his tongue over the pert flesh. Hermione's back arched as her hands went to his hair and she cried out with a sound that went straight to Lucius's cock. He took the nipple between his teeth, biting down gently as Hermione's hips bucked in response. As his mouth worked one breast, his hand worked the other. He quickly switched between the two, not wanting to neglect either one.

Her hands went from gripping his hair to running up and down his back, stroking softly as she explored his body, but every now and then her nails would dig in from a wave of pleasure running through her. Lucius let out a groan when she dug particularly hard, the pain mixing into pleasure.

His mouth released her breasts from his slow torture, trailing his way her taut stomach. The skin shivered underneath, hot and flushed, but still very much ticklish. When he reached the top of the elastic of her little shorts, Lucius stopped to look up at her, considering all that happened.

Hermione's eyes burned into him, bright with desire, chest heaving. Her body was trembling, but Lucius was concerned it was not for the reason he wanted. He lightly planted kisses on the stomach, right above her pants, trying to soothe her nerves.

"Do you want me to stop, Hermione?" It was very hard to focus when every time he said her name, she shivered. Her lust-filled eyes zeroed in on him. She opened her mouth and then closed it, as if unsure of what to say. Lucius waited patiently, waiting for her thoughts to form, lightly tracing circles over her stomach, not hard enough to tickle, but light enough to drive her just slightly insane. Finally, it seemed like she had collected herself enough to speak.

"I want to Lucius, I do. Gods I do."

"But—?" He steeled himself for the answer.

"But I don't know if I can."

That wasn't a request to stop. Almost a trepidation for what would happen.

"Do you trust me, Hermione?"

She blinked at him.

A beat of silence.

"Yes."

 **/**

 **Eep! Some actual heat now (not to mention some nice fluff to round it all out). Please let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi lovelies! So sorry this has taken so long to get out to you. This was the scene that I first imagined that sparked Earthly Cleansing to even happen so I wanted it to be everything for you that is was for me. So just a warning: HEAVY smut throughout this entire chapter. I hope you like it!**

Chapter 10

Hermione watched, wide eyed and breathless as the wizard moved from his place down at her waist. Her body was on fire, adrenaline coursing through her veins from his every touch. Part of her wanted more, so much more, wanted to be closer to him in the most intimate way possible. The other part kept her brain whirring with the panic that she desperately tried to keep at bay.

She knew this was different, that she wanted him to touch her, needed him to touch her. But every time she closed her eyes when he was down _there_ , all she could remember was when she was blindfolded and could only feel the long, cold fingers of Voldemort.

Lucius moved upwards, his knees nestled between Hermione's legs, his hands meeting hers and intertwining their fingers as he pressed them into the pillows above her head, holding his weight. He hovered over her, his blond hair falling around her face, creating a veil that enclosed the two of them. His eyes were bright, pupils extremely dilated, and there was just the slightest pink flush to his flawless pale skin.

With the way he looked at her, Hermione completely forgot the slight embarrassment at being bare chested before him. The way his eyes roved over her face and body sent a thrill down to her toes. The wizard dipped his head down, brushing his lips against her, giving her a soft and encouraging kiss.

Suddenly and effortlessly, Lucius pulled her up so that she was sitting on his lap, his body nestled between her legs while he sat in a kneeling position. One arm snaked around her naked back to wrap gently around the nape of her neck, lending support. With his free hand he brushed her hair out of her face and looked at her quietly, his silver eyes meeting her gaze intensely . Hermione shifted in his lap, flicking her eyes away, unsure of how to handle the intimacy of the moment.

Lucius's eyes closed as a hiss escaped his mouth. His hand reached down to grip her hip, stilling her movements.

"Careful, little lioness." He breathed out slightly, the richness of his voice sending shivers down Hermione's spine, the barest hint of a tremor revealing his tight control. He opened his stormy eyes once more and brought his hand back up to cup the side of her face.

"You have no idea what you do to me, do you witch?" The way his lips wrapped around the word _witch_ made Hermione's stomach squeeze deliciously. She looked at him, wide-eyed and silent, unable to comprehend the thought that this was all happening. That someone like _him_ would want someone like her so desperately. But then again, she wanted him just the same.

Lucius's mouth met hers again, this time harder, more dominating, drawing her out to meet him, but letting her know full well who was in control. Hermione sighed into the kiss, loving the feeling of allowing him to take the lead. She twined her arms around his neck, pressing her chest into his in an effort to get as close to him as possible, loving the heady feeling on her nipples brushing against his skin. She was left breathless and wanton, his lips on hers making her lightheaded and sending ripple after ripple of heat to her very core, but she felt comfortable and safe.

Was this what mating would be like? Passionate, so much so that she felt like she would explode, but freeing?

Was she even ready to mate? Hell, she hadn't even been looking to _date_ anyone, let alone settle down. Would Lucius be okay with her drive to excel in her career? Her need for independence? Could they handle the implications of mating for life— _together_?

He knew her now in ways that no one did and it never felt like she was giving up information that he would use against her. He had been accepting, comforting, and kind. He stoked her flames in every capacity, whether her desire for him or for the pursuit of knowledge and justice. He was her equal in every way.

Maybe this could work. Maybe it would be much more than just frenzied passion.

A gentle bite to her bottom lip brought her back to earth and a deep chuckle came from the wizard holding her.

"You're thinking a little too hard, Hermione."

She flushed. She should be all in when it came to kissing this _Adonis_ that held her like she was a goddess herself, but it was so hard to get out of her brain. There were so many unknowns. His voice snapped her attention back to his face that had changed from that of thunderous desire, to quiet and contemplative sobriety.

"I wasn't a good man, Hermione. I made mistakes." His curiously bright eyes so intensely bore into her very soul that it made her hold her breath. "But— I'm trying to be good for you. Good _to_ you. I can make you happy, little lioness. I can't promise I won't be infuriating some days. We will quarrel fiercely as we do now, but I can be everything you need me to be."

Hermione was speechless, completely thrown off guard by his words. And the thought again echoed: maybe this could work. Hermione trusted her gut more than anything, it had been the thing that kept her alive through the war, and now her gut told her that this was right.

His voice deepened to a tone that threatened to make her toes curl and his grip grew exhilaratingly firmer at the base of her neck.

"But right now, let me make you feel good. Let me show you all the ways I can make your body sing for me. Let me show you how it feels when it's _right_." Hermione almost moaned at his voice as it washed over her. She felt her magick rise within her, pushing her toward the wizard offering himself to her, drowning all trepidations with a pool of desire deep in her belly.

"Tell me, witch. Tell me what you want. I need to hear you," Lucius practically growled at her, his eyes gleaming in that curious way. His fingers tangled in her hair at the base of her neck, gently pulling her head back so that she met his mercurial gaze.

"Touch me, Lucius. Please, I need—" Hermione was breathless, unable to properly form a coherent sentence that detailed what she wanted. Hell, _she_ wasn't even completely sure what she wanted, only that she wanted his hands and mouth on her body again. His grip on her hair sent shivers down her spine.

Suddenly their positions changed. Lucius sat back on the bed, leaning against the ornate headboard, legs outstretched. Hermione sat in his lap, back flush against his chest, a little dizzy at the change that didn't physically make sense it was so fast.

Hermione blinked as she was met with her own face looking back at her.

There was a large floor length mirror standing proudly at the foot of the bed, large enough to show both of them in its reflection.

She blushed hotly at the view. Her hair was wild, the riotous curls long enough to cover her breasts. Her eyes were dark with lust, cheeks and heaving chest tinged with pink. She met Lucius's gleaming eyes in the reflection, questioning what was happening.

He smirked at her.

"I want you to watch what I'm about to do to you," he rasped in her ear, "Now take off those tiny blasted shorts, witch." Hermione's whole body shivered as that voice once again made her muscles clench deliciously.

Feeling bold, she waved her hand quickly, and the cold air hitting her most private area made her eyes flutter shut as she moaned. The boldness drained away as she realized how vulnerable she was, and so her legs clamped shut, knees drawn up.

"Open your eyes." She peeked at Lucius's reflection through her lashes, feeling immensely embarrassed. But the look on his face made her suck in a breath.

His eyes were riveted on her face, thunderous with the want that mirrored her own, but his hands had not moved and his gaze didn't once rove down her body. Every bit of his attention was on her, how she reacted, how she felt. Hermione's heart gave a squeeze as she realized how much he truly must care for her.

His voice brushed past her ear once more. "Tell me to stop," he murmured. Hermione drew her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth thinking that to be the stupidest thing he ever could say. She felt like she would explode if he didn't touch her.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as his line of sight dropped to focus on her mouth. "You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

His velvety voice sent a thrill all the way down to her toes. Hermione couldn't even think of a time someone had called her sexy. Usually she would protest, thinking she was being made fun of, but his dark gaze that remained trained on her face spoke of his sincerity.

Lucius's large hands rose from their resting place on the silk covered mattress. Hermione watched, eyes glued to their reflection in the mirror, as his fingers slowly brushed up Hermione's arms, feather light touches that just _almost_ tickled, but made her heart race and her breath catch. They moved up and down, up and down, up and down, maddeningly slow. They rose to her shoulders, slipping under the tresses of her wild hair, thumbs stroking the top of her back, fingers dipping ever so slightly along her collarbone.

Every touch made her skin feel like it was burning, overly sensitive and overly anticipated for the next brush of the soft pads of his fingers.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, his hand slipped out from under her hair and simply pulled it away from her chest, exposing her to the cool air. He draped her hair behind her, allowing him free reign of the territory of her neck as he dropped his head to place a gentle kiss on the junction between her neck and her shoulder, making her shiver. Hermione's face flushed as she watched the show in the mirror, but she made no move to stop him, desperately wanting to feel his hands on her again.

And he didn't disappoint. Lucius's large hands immediately rose to cup her breasts, thumbs rolling the hardened rosy buds as his mouth continued to brush against the skin of her shoulder and neck. He gave a gentle squeeze to her nipples, causing Hermione's back to arch as a gasp escaped her lips. She could feel his lips pull into a smile against her skin.

"Feel good?" He murmured, the wave of heat from his voice and his hands causing Hermione to tremble. A quietly mumbled 'yes' was all she could get out, the feeling on his hands on her making it very difficult to form coherent thought.

"That's it, love. Let me hear you." Lucius's hands continued to mold her breasts, tweaking her nipples here and there. She unconsciously pushed her chest further into his hands, wanting more. Hermione's gaze never left the reflection, eyes trained on his hands as he touched her, breathy noises and gasps falling from her lips at his ministrations.

Then one of those hands made their way down her stomach, the muscles fluttering underneath her skin as the brushes of his fingertips almost tickled yet again, the remaining hand still molding her breast, making her dizzy with the dual sensations. Hermione started to pant as he brushed the skin of her stomach up and down, up and down, fingers teasingly brushing the sensitive flesh that stretched taut over her pelvis. Her hips bucked ever so slightly, even as her legs remained shut and pulled up, her ankles crossed in a way that hid her most private part from view.

His hands stilled and her eyes rose to meet his burning gaze in the mirror.

"Open your legs for me, Hermione."

/

Lucius waited, his heart thundering in his chest as the witch in his arms kept his gaze. She had taken her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth, a blush spreading deeply across her face, contemplating her response to his request. He didn't want to push her, so he sat quietly, his eyes never leaving her face, searching for any unwillingness or desire to stop.

But then her knees slowly spread apart and she was bare before him.

He groaned.

His Veela keened.

She was exquisite.

The soft curves of her body molding against him, trembling and writhing under his touches threatened to make him lose his mind. Her breasts were mouthwatering, large enough to spill over from a handful, the rosy buds of her nipples beckoning him to lave his tongue over them. Her skin was smooth, stomach taut from her continued training after the war.

But her pussy. Gods her pussy.

Her folds hid it from view, but with her knees spread, he could see just how wet her pink flesh was. She was hairless, not that a woman's grooming preference mattered to him, but it turned him on immensely to see her, to see that she was offering every bit of herself to him willingly. He didn't think he had ever been this hard before, especially when he had barely been touched himself. He wondered how she tasted, getting the urge to devour her, fuck her with his tongue, make her come from only his mouth.

 _Patience, Lucius. There will be time for that. For now, go slowly._

Lucius wanted to show her how it felt when she wanted it. He knew her memories could possibly inhibit her so he made it so everything that would happen between them, especially now during the first time they even touched, wouldn't echo the trauma she had experienced at the hands of that monster.

Now she could see every little thing his hands were about to do to her. She was allowing him to take the lead, finding comfort in him taking the lead, but she was the one in full control.

He trailed his hands down, brushing over her hips, running up and down her raised thighs, touching her everywhere except where she wanted.

Her brow furrowed. "Lucius," she gasped, "please."

Her breathless plea almost sent him over the edge, a growl rumbling through his chest. But even his Veela remained in check, no longer threatening to take over as it even cared for the emotional state of its soon-to-be mate. It purred in satisfaction at being able to touch its mate.

He placed his whole hand over her mound, feeling her heat radiating from her as he cupped her. Hermione bucked underneath him, biting her lip as if to silence herself. He brushed his lips against her ear.

"I want to hear you, love. Tell me how good it feels." He pressed his hand into her, giving her just enough friction to stimulate a wanton keen.

"Yes," she gasped. "Please, Lucius, again."

He pressed into her again, shifting the heel of his palm just so as to slightly brush against where her clit sat hidden beneath her folds. Her hips bucked again as she cried out. He continued this technique, wanting to make sure she was thoroughly ready before he touched her legitimately.

When she started to grind her hips instinctively against his hand as a way to gain more friction, he slipped a finger in between her folds and groaned in her ear.

"Fuck, witch. All this for me?" He rasped, indicating the soaking wet heat that he felt.

Hermione nodded in response, seeming to have lost any ability to speak from the feeling of him, no longer too shy, but lost in the pleasure that he was drawing out of her body. He gently swiped up her slit, from her entrance to her clit, eliciting a particularly delicious cry from her full and now very swollen lips that went straight to his groin. Again, wanting to go slow, he repeated this motion, over and over, letting her get used to how she felt, adding digits as she cried out louder and louder, until he was just swirling his fingers slowly, maddeningly around that little pearl of nerves, never quite touching it directly, but stimulating her all the same.

Watching her intently through the mirror's reflection, Lucius noted that this had to be the most erotic sight he had ever seen: her naked body flushed, chest heaving, her legs open to him, his hand moving down at the apex of her thighs, her eyes wide and riveted on his hand.

She was panting from his ministrations, her breathing hitching higher at every inhale, her body stiffening.

"Lucius, I—"

"That's it, love. Let it go." He whispered sweet encouragements in her ear, keeping his same pace as her brow furrowed to focus on the spring of pleasure coiling tightly in her belly, her eyes drinking in the sight of his hand working her pussy.

"Lucius, I— I need—" she was breathless, frustrated, desperately needing release but was just unable to get over that precipice.

And then Lucius remembered.

"Come, Hermione." He commanded, his voice silk, just as he pressed his thumb lightly and directly on her clit. And with a wanton wail, her back arched and her head threw back onto his shoulder as her body convulsed with pleasure.

Lucius worked her still, letting her ride it out for as long as she needed, hooking one arm around her to keep her pinned to him.

The muscles in her stomach rippled and her toes curled as she came, her hands gripping his silk clad thighs that she sat nestled between. Lucius moved his feet to hook on this inside of hers so that he could keep her legs spread as his hand still moved steadily. Her shudders made her body move against his clothed cock in a way that made him moan into her hair. His balls ached from just how fucking turned on he was.

Hermione slumped against him as she came back down from the stars, breathing heavily, eyes heavy lidded as she looked at him in the reflection. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, her curls wild.

She was breathtaking.

Lucius withdrew his hand and held her gaze as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on the soaked digits, noting the dilation of her eyes as a sign of her thoroughly enjoying the sight. A groan ripped through him at her taste.

"You're the most exquisite thing I've ever seen, witch," he murmured in her ear, arms wrapping around her to hold her close as she collected herself, lips brushing sweetly against her cheek.

Hermione sighed and pressed into him, a small smile gracing her lips.

"How do you feel?" She giggled in response looking at him in the reflection through her lashes, that bottom lip being torturously bitten. A sense of victory swelled in his chest at the thought of him being able to make her come, of her allowing him to try.

"Well prepare yourself, little lioness. Because I'm not through with you just yet." Her eyes widened as his feet pushed her out, spreading her thighs a little wider as his hand reached down to touch her once more.

"Lucius— I don't know if I—" she protested lightly.

"Yes you can, love. Just relax," he purred in her ear.

Fuck, she was soaking wet. Moreso after coming for him. She was so fucking responsive, coming on his hand from just light circles around her sensitive little bud.

But now he wanted to feel her. He swirled his fingers around her one more time, earning himself a particularly delicious moan as her pussy was probably overly sensitive after coming so hard.

Then he slipped one finger into her.

Hermione went rigid. Lucius stilled any movement within her, using his other hand to stroke up and down her arm, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, encouraging her to watch, making sure she wanted to continue.

Gods she felt so fucking good and this was one sodding finger.

She shifted on his lap, getting used to the intrusion, her brows furrowed as she took stock of her body. She moved her hips slightly into him and moaned at the sensation. Lucius took this as his cue to begin.

He very slowly pumped his finger one time in and out of her releasing a moan as her silken heat wrapped around his finger tightly, imagining how it would feel to sink his cock into her. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as a groan fell from her lips, hips bucking in response.

His lips brushed her ear as he murmured to her, "Do you want me to stop, Hermione?"

Her eyes snapped open and she frantically shook her head, making Lucius chuckle at her eagerness.

"Your words, Hermione, let me hear you."

"No. Please don't stop, Lucius. Please, Merlin, don't stop," she panted at him.

"As you wish, love," he said with a smirk, dropping his head to bite gently on her neck.

He began moving his finger in and out, in and out, slowly and steadily, loving the feeling of how she squeezed him. Her hips started to rise to meet his movements and he slowly added a second digit.

Hermione gasped and moaned, switching from staring straight at his hand moving in between her thighs to her eyes closing as she focused on the pleasure that coursed through her body.

Lucius picked up the pace, pumping into her faster, just a little rougher, to heighten her sensation. Now moans were falling from her lips at a constant rate, her body undulating. He swiped his thumb over her clit.

"Lucius!" She cried out, a cry that went straight to his cock. He growled as he dropped his mouth to her ear, catching her heavy lidded gaze in the mirror.

"Yes, witch. Say my name. Say the name of the man whose fingers are fucking your hot little pussy." Her hips bucked and she moaned at his words, beginning to breathlessly chant his name as his fingers pumped in and out of her, thumb now mercilessly steady on her clit.

Her body began to stiffen as that familiar hitching of her breath began. Lucius went faster, this time curling his fingers in that beckoning motion to hit that delicious spot.

"Lucius!" She cried, hips bucking in time with the pumping of his fingers, head thrown back as she focused on the new sensation of him hitting her G-spot. His hand snaked around her waist yet again to keep her steady.

"That's it, witch. Come for me," he growled in her ear, biting down on the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Hermione's back bowed and her nails dug into his thighs as she came with a scream, his name still on her lips, body spasming, thighs trembling, eyes screwed shut, and mouth in the shape of an 'O'.

Lucius murmured sweet encouragements in her ear as she came, drawing her ecstasy out as he continued to work her until she was completely finished.

She slumped against him a second time, shuddering periodically with aftershocks of her second orgasm. Lucius held her, brushing her skin gently, planting soft kisses on her shoulders and cheek. He softly moved them so that they both lay down on the mattress, limbs entangled, her cuddled up to his chest, his hand lightly stroking her back.

Lucius has never been one for cuddling, but holding her in his arms made him feel so— _whole_. He delicately stroked her back, giving her time to come down from the stars once more. With a flick of a finger, the silken sheets covered her naked body that continued to tremble.

A slight giggle came from the mass of curls that was nestled against his chest. The mane shifted as it revealed the beautiful witch's face as she turned it upwards to look at him. Lucius peered down at her, raising a rueful eyebrow in confusion.

"Kiss me," she breathed out, her eyes shining with deep emotion as her arms snaked around his neck. Lucius dipped his head and captured her lips in a sweet kiss, slow and steady, thick from the intimacy they had just shared. When he released her, Hermione's eyes fluttered open as her lips pulled into a small smile.

"Thank you."

She didn't have to explain. Lucius knew the weight of the statement, the emotion behind it. He regarded her carefully, and slowly nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Then the witch's eyebrows furrowed in that way that he knew was her brain working a little too hard. She opened her mouth and then closed it as if unsure of what to say. Lucius waited quietly, letting her find her own words.

A flush spread across her cheeks and her eyes flicked down so as to not meet his.

"But you— Do you want me—?" She peeked at him through her lashes, shy once more.

"No, Hermione." Those eyes had gone flat at his response. Shit, he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. He squeezed her in his arms, reassuringly.

"What I mean is, not today. You have no idea how long I've thought about how you would touch me, how that wicked know-it-all mouth would look with my cock in it, how that hot little pussy would feel around me." Hermione gave a squeak at his word choice, face flushing further as she buried her face in his chest.

"But." Her eyes snapped to his face. "But if you'll have me, we'll have all the time in the world to explore all the endless possibilities for all the dirty things I want to do to you. Today, however, is about you." Lucius dipped his head to brush his lips against hers again. He smirked into the kiss.

"Besides, I'm planning on making you scream my name three more times before I let you out of this room," he growled against her mouth, noting with satisfaction the shudder that went through her body.

Suddenly he sprang from the bed, eliciting a startled laugh from the witch.

"But for now, we eat!" He said grandly, flourishing his hand at the full breakfast Twinkle had brought, ending his movement in a caricature of a bow. In his bent position, he raised his head, mouth going dry at the sight of a very naked Hermione Granger wrapped in his silk sheets, looking like a covergirl for Wanton Wizard. He didn't think he would ever get used to the beautiful witch that wanted him just as he wanted her. He was a lucky bastard for sure that he mate had arrived in the form of Persephone herself.

He rose up and winked at her with a smirk.

"Believe me, little lioness, you'll need it."

 **/**

 **There it is! Not fully satisfying, but we'll get there, mark my words. This chapter ended up being a tad shorter than the rest because, I don't know, adding anything else seemed to cheapen what happened here to me. Also this is my first ever smut that I've written so I was stressed about getting it right and trying to stay true to the story and the characters. Please tell me what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello lovelies! I think it's been, what, a year since I've updated? I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. So here's a chapter with lots of smut to go along with my apology. Lucius is a little more deliciously dominant here, but consent is always the foundation of these episodes. Just wanted to explore what we learned about Hermione's appreciation for rules and commands.**

Chapter 11

Hermione rose on unsteady legs fisting the sheet to her chest so that it came with her off the bed twisting the sleek material around her body so it would stay even if her hands moved, suddenly shy again. Yes, maybe Lucius had just ravished her with his hands and she was completely naked and pliant in his arms, completely at his mercy and on display for him, but that didn't mean that she suddenly was okay with flamboyant nudity.

His steel gaze never left her body as she rose, the hunger that she had seen there when he had brought her to orgasm not dissipating. That devastatingly handsome smirk played on his lips as he watched her. Somehow that smirk now only made her shiver with want, instead of making her want to slap it off his face.

Hermione's line of vision trailed down that powerfully built chest, dappled with blond hair that seemed to glow in the light, all the way down that clean and strong abdomen, muscles peeking out from underneath the taut skin at his every breath. Her eyes followed that line of light hair that trailed from his belly button to underneath his dangerously low slung pajama bottoms, the mouthwatering V of his hips also pointing to the jaw-dropping huge tent of the material. Hermione felt her cheeks heat as her gaze was riveted to that place. She wasn't well-versed in that specific body part of a male, but just from here, he looked huge. His chuckle broke her reverie.

"See something you like, little mate?" Oh that smirk was positively _wicked_.

Suddenly Lucius crossed the room to her in only a few strides, stopping to stand chest to chest with her, looking down with that unreadable expression he sometimes wore. Slowly, delicately, he grazed his fingertips along her arms as he reached up to cup her face with both of his large hands. Stroking her cheeks, those sometimes curiously bright silver eyes bore into hers, seeming to look through her very soul. Hermione stayed quiet, unable to find words, unable to find breath. This suddenly seemed like a heavy moment, filled with an intensity that she couldn't quite understand, but knew she didn't want to ruin with words.

Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed a firm but achingly sweet kiss to her mouth. It ended all too quickly but he still kept her face in his hands, his face only a breath's distance from her.

"Mate," he breathed, his voice raspy and full of wonder, "My mate."

Hermione's whole body shivered with the claim. Her magick undulated inside of her, celebratory in the recognition and acceptance from her mate. She could feel the slight connection in their power, the same tingle that happened every time his skin touched hers. But now that she knew that it meant that she was his to claim and vice versa, it made her very soul quake at the rightness of it all, his power already wrapping around her, steadying her.

Her free hand, the one not holding up her makeshift garment in case her knot did not hold, slid up his powerful chest, snaking up to wrap behind his neck. She rose up on her tip toes and returned his kiss. Breaking it off after a sweet moment, Hermione's eyes remained locked to his as her hand slid back to his chest to rest lightly over his heart.

"My mate."

She claimed him too.

Her magick purred within her. Lucius's eyes grew brighter as his Veela probably crowed underneath the surface in triumph.

A small, true smile curved his lips. Then that devilish glint sparked in his eyes as his hands slid down her body to rest possessively on her waist. She could feel him pressing up against her hip. Holy shit he really was huge.

"Well, mate." Gods, his voice when he said that word was practically sinful, threatening to buckle her knees. "Why don't we eat and then I can have you for dessert?"

Hermione felt her face burn. Lucius chuckled at the reaction, sliding his hands around from her hips to give her bum a nice squeeze. Hermione's hands flew to cling to his biceps, forgetting the sheet, a gasp escaping her lips. Her body was still thrumming from her orgasms and she was still incredibly sensitive. He leaned down so his mouth brushed her ear in that tantalizing way that sent chills down her spine.

"We'll keep this sheet on for now, little mate. Only for now." His teeth nibbled at her lobe, eliciting another gasp as her entire body shuddered at the sensual promise in his words. Already, heat was pooling again in her body, threatening to steal her breath permanently.

But Lucius stepped back, taking her hand to bring up to his mouth to press a kiss to her pulse point at her wrist.

"But for now, we eat."

/

Lucius was positively aching for Hermione. The second she uttered the word "mate," his Veela threatened to take him over and take her. But no, they would continue to go slowly, let her control the pace. He just gained her trust and gods above, her willingness, he wouldn't throw it away because he was too horny to think straight. He would do this right by her.

But watching Hermione be wrapped so deliciously in that silk sheet, the material pressing to and molding around her curves, the opening revealing her gorgeous legs, he was going to lose his mind. You would think seeing someone naked would cause any type of clothing that hid their perfect form to not be viewed as so fucking sexy, but she could probably wear a potato sack and look just as delectable.

He led her to the small table where Twinkle had left the feast of a breakfast under a warming spell (thank Merlin), trying to think of anything but her tight wet heat, the muscles squeezing his fingers deliciously, her body undulating as she came, the way her magick flowed almost wantonly around her during her orgasm. How it would be to finally sit between her creamy thighs as he tasted her. How it would feel to finally sink into her for the first time.

Obviously he was doing a piss poor job at not thinking of her and his cock strained against his sleeping bottoms.

But his mate needed to eat. She needed a healthy and fueled body, not just for the things he ached to do to her, but to be able to get through her task that the ministry had sent her here to do.

Lucius, ever the gentleman, pulled out Hermione's seat for her and swiftly joined her at the table. He watched her quietly as she reached for some toast to butter, that pretty little blush still coloring her cheeks. Her eyes flicked up to his, and she flashed a shy smile.

"You're staring."

"You're my mate. I'll stare at the beauty before me until I go blind, love." Oh how he loved the delicious blush.

Hermione ducked her head and began nibbling at her breakfast. As she chewed her eyes would flick back and forth from her plate to his, seemingly unsure of herself. Lucius could probably sit back and watch her all day, but he decided to have mercy.

"What's it like?" He murmured to her. Those doe eyes snapped up to his in momentary confusion, then settled as her always impressive mind inferred the question.

"Seductive. Exhilarating. Absolutely terrifying," she said quietly. "It's like I know I'm in control now in a way, but I can feel my toes hanging off the ledge and one wrong move and..." she trailed off and took a breath.

"And I'm so tired."

Lucius let that statement hang in the air, giving her the time to work through her thoughts.

"I thought my responsibilities to the Wizarding World would end when Voldemort was defeated. I thought I could go on, have a career, make a bloody difference for people and beings that don't have as much power as I do, but now?"

She threw her hands in the air, her magick sparking around her as her passion and frustration grew. "Now I'm shackled again. But this time there's no Golden Trio or whatever the hell they called us. It's just me. And those shackles are crushing me."

Lucius slid his hand across the table, taking her hand and flipping it so his thumb could rub across her wrist. His magic intertwined with hers and he heard an audible sigh from the witch.

"No, Hermione."

"No?"

"No. It's not just you, little mate." Her eyes searched his. For what, Lucious didn't know. But her body language calmed.

"What does this feel like?" Lucius asked as his thumb continued to rub circles. Her eyes dilated.

"Heaven," she sighed. "I feel so hot all the time. And your magic is like a cool breeze wrapping around me. It's like the splash of cold water that brings you back to reality, but not harsh at all."

Lucius brought her wrist up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to her skin, giving her ever so slight a nip. Hermione's teeth drew in that bottom lip as her eyes became hooded. He smirked at her responsive reaction before placing her hand back on her side of the little table.

"Eat, witch. I want you lucid for what happens next."

/

Breakfast was pleasant. Hermione was pleasantly surprised at how much she enjoyed talking with Lucius. Granted, she was incredibly attracted to him and obviously they were mates, but she had been worried that's all there was. And there had to be more than just the physical aspects, right?

But they had wonderful conversations about so many different things: wizarding history, the werewolf reform, music, overhauling the ministry, even muggle topics. And Lucius was light, intelligent, and incredibly quick-witted. He would listen to her completely, take a moment to collect his thoughts, and then make an educated and conversation-moving response. He made her laugh multiple times, prompting one of those breathtaking real smiles from him.

In short, Hermione was enraptured. He was everything. Her equal. Her mate.

She was more curious about the whole Veela things. Especially the whole seeing magic deal. But she figured she would offer him the same respect as he did her, and allow him to bring up the subject when he wanted.

And Merlin, how his eyes made her body catch fire. Every intelligent word out of his sensual mouth caressed her skin, adding to her heat. When he was done eating, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his powerful chest, watching her as she finished her meal, and Hermione almost forgot to breathe. To chew. To blink.

He was so attractive it hurt. Him crossing his arms only enhanced the power of his chest and biceps. And his lean only brought his main focal point to the destination that his mouthwatering V pointed so obscenely to. His eyes grew to that bright indescribable color as he watched her put her fork down, his gaze trapping her like a predator traps his prey.

"Hermione." Merlin's balls this man's voice would be her undoing. She shuddered.

"Stand for me, love." The silk laced command made her quiver as she obeyed, pulling the silk sheet up with her. Lucius remained seated, that molten silver riveted to her warm amber.

"Let it fall, little mate."

Hermione hesitated, her blasted shyness making her face flush and her hand fist the material to her chest. Lucius's eyes flashed.

"I said... _let it fall_." His tone was rich mahogany, the sin of over-indulging in chocolate, dangerous.

Hermione whimpered. And her fingers released the silk sheet. It fell, wisping over body in such an erotic way, caressing her curves as if it was an extension of Lucius's hands as it slid down her form.

A deep growl vibrated from Lucius's chest and it lit her aflame.

"Get on the bed, little mate," he rasped at her, his ragged breath that matched hers the only betrayal of his thin grip on his control. "On your back."

Hermione chewed her lip as she obeyed, turning from him, the view eliciting another knee buckling growl from him, and padded toward the bed. She slowly turned to face him and her insides squeezed deliciously as she saw the desire written clearly across his face. She lowered herself to sit on the bed, unable to break the intensity of his gaze, his eyes brightening even more that the silver almost seemed to glow.

Lucious stood. The picture of power as his formidable form unfolded to present himself before her. Hermione's chin raised as she held his gaze and she scooted back against the bed until her feet were supported by the softness of the mattress, her legs closed as her thighs pressed tightly together.

The blonde wizard prowled towards her. In any other circumstance, Hermione might be intimidated, but his show of power, of dominance, only made her breathless with want. He stopped at the edge of the bed.

Hermione held herself up by her hands that were splayed behind her, only vaguely aware of how the position made her back arch to present her breasts in the most wanton way. Lucius's eyes trailed down her body and his chest rumbled with a primal, animalistic growl.

"What did I say, little witch?" Her insides did that delicious squeeze again at the silky danger that was his voice. Quickly, not wanting to disobey or disappoint, Hermione laid back, eyes moving up to gaze at the ceiling, arms coming to rest on her abdomen, fingers interlacing, indicating her nerves.

A rich chuckle came from where Lucius stood. Merlin, a laugh should not be that fucking sexy.

"I knew you loved rules, little mate. I just didn't expect it to be this much." Hermione felt heat further rush to her cheeks. She felt his hands trail up her legs with gentle, almost teasing movements. The pads of his fingers moved up to stroke the outside of her thighs as she trembled in response.

"Open your legs for me, love." The command was gentle, but enough to make Hermione shudder. She slowly drew her feet up as her knees bent while they remained pressed together. She felt his fingers slip away. What was she doing? Never in her life would she have thought about entertaining this kind of thing. But every growl, every sinful command made her belly clench and her instinct roar to obey. He had already shown her she could trust him with her body. He had already seen her everything. She could do this.

Taking a breath and steeling her nerves, she allowed her knees to fall apart, presenting herself to Lucius quite lewdly.

She heard his breath woosh from his lips, his chest rumble. And then—

" _Good girl_."

Hermione moaned at the praise, his lowly rasped words stroking her in all the right ways.

She felt the dip of the mattress as Lucius moved to the bed, his long strong fingers encircling one ankle as the other hand cupped and massaged her calf on the opposite limb. His warm mouth pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of her right knee. Her hips bucked at the skittering of pleasure that ran through her body at the contact.

" _Fuck_ , Hermione. I can smell you. Gods, you smell so _fucking_ good." Lucius's voice was rough. The hand massaging her calf slid down and encircled the other ankle as Hermione felt his weight disappear from the bed. For a split second, she worried she had somehow offended him or that he was somehow uninterested.

But with a squeal, she was suddenly jerked across the mattress by her ankles, until her feet were at the very edge of the bed. Hermione released a breath of laughter as she craned her neck to find Lucius, but it died in her throat.

He was kneeling by the bed, his hands still firmly gripping her ankles, those bright, molten silver eyes riveted to the apex of her thighs.

His eyes slowly trailed up her body until they reached her gaze, a pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips, his breath ragged. His look of possessive and animalistic barely-there control made Hermione's heart race like a war drum in her chest.

"I'm gonna fuck you with my mouth, little mate." Hermione moaned at the filthy words, eyes never leaving her gorgeous mate's face, as she nodded almost frantically in agreement.

"Do you want that? Do you want me to taste what this sweet pussy has to offer? Feel my tongue fuck your little cunt?" Hermione's breath went ragged, every word wrapped in delicious sinful promises of pleasure. She couldn't respond. She couldn't breathe.

"Tell me, little mate." Lucius growled at her, his fingers tightening around her ankles, refusing to move until she acquiesced.

"P-please..." Hermione whimpered.

"Please what, little mate?" His voice softened, allowing her a moment's reprieve from the overstimulation provided by the voice he possessed. "Tell me what you want, love. And I'll give you everything I have."

Hermione's heart almost burst at the earnestness of his words.

"Please Lucius."

"Fuck me with your mouth."

He smiled a triumphant smile.

" _Good girl_."

Hermione moaned again at the praise, reveling in how two small words had the power to make her melt in his hands.

His lips ghosted over the skin on the inside of her right knee and he trailed up the smooth flesh of her inner thigh, making her tremble with need, want, anticipation. She felt like she might explode.

Lucius moved his mouth on her body all the way to her innermost area, then switched and mirrored his ministrations on her left leg. Every brush of his lips made her want to absolutely lose her mind.

Her hands fisted themselves in the bedsheets, trying to find an anchor to steady herself, fearing she might be flung into oblivion before she could even feel what was about to happen.

Was she nervous? Hell yes. Did she want him to stop or slow down? _Fuck no_.

He had already brought her body to welcome new heights of pleasure and seemed intent on bringing her even higher. And Hermione was content with going along for the ride.

Suddenly, she felt warm breath at her most private place. Hermione's entire body trembled as she waited. A whine ripped from her throat at having to wait and she lifted her head to see just what in the fuck was making him take so damn long.

She met his molten mercury gaze and brought her bottom lip between her teeth at how the sight made her pussy clench. Lucius's eyes flashed as he growled.

"You're so fucking sexy— _fuck_." His irises were blown wide and he slowly dipped his head, still maintaining eye contact, and nipped at the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. Hermione's hips bucked as she gasped, the tiny pain morphing into absolute pleasure.

"Watch me, Hermione," Lucius breathed. "Watch me fuck this sweet little cunt with my mouth like you watched me fuck you with my fingers."

Hermione whimpered as the filthy words spoken in that sinful baritone washed over her body.

"P-please Lucius. I—I need..."

His tongue swiped between her folds and Hermione thought she would die right there. He groaned into her flesh, the vibrations causing her pussy to clench maddeningly. His hot tongue flattened itself against her clit, lapping at her like he was an animal dying of thirst.

Hermione so desperately wanted to squeeze her eyes shut to just feel the magic that was going on down there, but she also wanted to obey, to please, so she kept her eyes riveted on the blonde head between her thighs. It was one of the most erotic sights she had ever seen and just the vision itself threatened to tip her over the edge into pleasurable oblivion.

His tongue swirled around her clit, his lips closing around the button and sucking. Hermione cried out Lucius's name as her hands went to his hair, anchoring his mouth to her as her hips bucked against him. His hands reached up to hold her hips down and he devoured her. His tongue made its way to her entrance and entered her, created a rhythm like his fingers, stealing her breath or any coherent thought.

His name became a chant. A prayer.

Then his finger breached her entrance as his tongue went back to her clit and Hermione was quite sure she would die. He slowly pushed his digit in and out of her wet channel, adding a second when she had gotten used to the intrusion again. And as he swirled his tongue, lapped at her, and sucked her clit, his fingers curled up to press into her walls and Hermione was gone.

Her head flung back as her back arched, her orgasm ripping through her, delicious as it was sudden. Her nails scratched against Lucius's scalp, earning her a groan that vibrated her very core. He feasted on her, worked his hand in her as she rode through her orgasm. Her consciousness had gone blurry at the edges, stars bursting behind her eyelids, as her mouth opened and a guttural womanly wail tore through her throat.

Hermione slumped, gasping for air as her orgasm receded, but moaned because Lucius wasn't done. His fingers never left and now his tongue was moving faster, harder.

Her whole body trembled as he pushed her toward the next peak.

"Lucius _please_ —"

He lifted his face to look at her, the sight of his wet mouth causing Hermione's pussy to clench around his still moving fingers.

"You're going to come on my face again, little mate." His voice offered no objection, not that Hermione was even at a place that halfway wanted to object. "But this time. You'll only come when I tell you."

Hermione's face flushed more at his direction, but before she could voice any of her thoughts, he descended on her once more.

His teeth grazed against her clit and Hermione's back arched as she almost came up off of the bed, the pleasure billowing through her body.

"Lucius. _Fuck_. _Lucius_."

He now elected to speak, between licks and sucks, his fingers beginning a punishing pace that began to make wet, utterly filthy noises that filled the room and made Hermione lose her mind.

"Fuck, little mate. You're so wet for me. All for me. Your pussy tastes so _fucking_ good."

"Do you like this? When I put my teeth on you?" Hermione wanted to scream, but every touch of his teeth stole her breath. He was quickly, unbelievably, sending her back up to the height of pleasure. She was consumed. Completely at his mercy. " _Fuck_ , I could eat this hot little pussy for the rest of my life."

"Tell me how you feel, little mate. Let me hear you."

Hermione could barely breathe, how was she supposed to respond? Every press of those fingers against her walls made her cry out and suddenly she was at the edge of the cliff, trying desperately to hang on and obey.

"Speak, mate. Do you want me to let you come?"

"Please Lucius. _Please_."

"Please what, Hermione?" His devilish tongue went back to swirling around her clit, keeping her right at the cusp. He seemed to have memorized her body in such a short time, knowing exactly what to do to just barely keep her on the edge.

"Please. Please let me come. Fuck. Lucius. Please let me come. I need to come," Hermione practically sobbed the words, pleasure consuming her brain, making her a melted mass of incoherency as she tried desperately to stave off a powerful orgasm while being frustrated at the same time and wanting to jump off that ledge.

"Good little mate." His tongue swirled around her clit and his fingers pistoned out of her, twisting inside of her to add that much more delicious agony. Hermione's body shuddered and shivered at his ministrations, coming undone. His name fell from her lips over and over and she writhed against his mouth.

And then.

"Come for me, love." The words were a growled command, emphasized by his teeth grazing her clit and his fingers curling up to pulse quickly against her walls. And Hermione exploded.

Her back arched and her head flung back as she screamed, the orgasm taking over her entire being. Reality didn't exist. Logic was a lie. All the was was the pleasure rippling through her entire body and the feeling of Lucius's hot mouth against her flesh and fingers deep inside her. Hermione's body quaked as her hands fisted the sheets, trying to tie herself to this dimension somehow.

Lucius worked her through her second orgasm. And as she collapsed back on the bed, breath ragged and coming in short gasps, he trailed his lips over her neck and face and he gently climbed on the bed. His hands brushed up and down her sides, moving her limp and pleasure drunk body to curl against him as he stroked her back, whispering sweet endearments and encouragements in her ear.

How she was such a good girl. How beautiful she was when she came for him. What a good mate she made.

When Hermione was able to gain some semblance of control back on her brain and body she opened her eyes and was met with the adoring silver gaze of her mate.

And she knew she was done for.

 **/**

 **And there you have it. There will probably be 2-3 more chapters to fully tell this little story. Hopefully I can do that in a timely manner because I have so many more inspirations for some smutty Hermione love.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you think!**


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